One More Night
by QuirkQuirk
Summary: Stiles really doesn't know he gets himself into these things. It was just a stupid dare, and there aren't even any wolves in California, anyway. Derek/Stiles AU COMPLETE
1. everybody talks

**Author's Notes:** As has been my habit the last few years, I write myself a fanfiction to post on my birthday. Because I am a weird, lonely little nerd. Since this time last year, I have branched out into a lot of new, amazing fandoms, but none have struck me quite as truly and deeply as Teen Wolf. (Again, this probably has something to do with me being a weird, lonely little nerd.) Honestly, there was no way my birthday fanfiction _wasn't_ going to be Teen Wolf related, this year. I dabbled with a few other fandom ideas, just to test the waters, but then this one came along, and, well… I suppose you could say I was _bitten_ by the writing bug. (wow okay, yikes, no more awful, non-sexual, double-entendres.)

**The disclaimer! **I do not own Teen Wolf, or any of its characters, and I make no profit from anything Teen Wolf related that I write. (But hey, let me know how to make that happen!)

**Pairing(s):** Derek/Stiles, and a little smidge of Scott/Allison on the side.

**Summary:** Stiles really doesn't know he gets himself into these things. It was just a stupid dare, and there aren't even any wolves in California.

**Warnings:** There's a little bit of violence sprinkled here and there, but none even halfway as intensive as the show itself. Derek is a creeper who is not aware of personal space. Boys smoochin' and stuff.

**Dedication:** To my packmate, and also my alpha, who are not (and hopefully never will be, oh god) even aware that I wrote this, but who have made the last year a whole lot friendlier. AROOOOO!

**Other stuff: **Fun fact! The songs that inspired me while writing this are: "_She Wolf (Falling to Pieces)" _by David Guetta feat. Sia, "_One More Night_" by Maroon 5, and "_Live Like We're Gonna Die Young_" by Ke$ha vs One Direction. NO SHAME, NO REGRETS! MY MUSICAL TASTE IS AWESOME.

**.o.O.o.**

**One More Night**

**.o.O.o.**

"You know this is a terrible idea, right?"

Stiles heaved a sigh, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes or turn around and punch Scott, only because he didn't want to risk stumbling in the dark. "You know, I had sort of picked up on that particular opinion of yours somewhere around the five-hundred-thousandth time you mentioned it. But thanks for making sure I know. Again."

To be fair, they _were_ currently making their way through the dark woods on an abandoned private road, towards a dilapidated, half-burnt-down house that was rumored to be absolutely, _viciously_, haunted with only the full moon's light that managed to filter through the dense trees to guide them… but that just made it an _awesome_ idea, if you asked Stiles.

Also, there was no way that asshole Jackson was going to be right about Stiles being "too much of a pussy" to go check it out.

"I'm just saying," Scott continued, hands shoved into his pockets and face doing that disgruntled nose-wrinkle that would probably be adorable and endearing if Stiles hadn't gotten sick and tired of his best friend's whining several eons ago when they had parked the car back on the main road and it had started with a simple 'you sure this is a good idea?' and escalated exponentially from there. "No one knows we're here, and we forgot a flashlight, and I don't really believe in like, ghosts or whatever, but there could be wild animals. Mountain lions or bears or wolves or something."

"There are no wolves in California." Stiles shot back, tripping slightly over an outlying root. "Not for like, almost a century."

"Okay, well that still leaves mountain lions and bears. Or, I don't know, axe murderers." Scott insisted, ever the optimist.

Stiles pulled the hood of his jacket off in frustration, and scrubbed his hands uselessly over his short-cropped hair, stopping in place and turning around. "Scott. Dude. You said you'd do this with me, are you seriously going to back out just because there might be some wildlife or figments of your imagination running around out here? Jackson will never, and I mean _never_, let us live it down if we do, in fact, pussy out. And I don't know about you, but I'd rather warm the bench with _hypothetical_ insults being thrown our way, rather than that doucherag having actual, fact-based, insults to lord over us for the rest of forever."

Shifting uneasily on his feet, Scott looked like he would have liked to protest further, but simply frowned resolutely and gestured with his shoulder in a '_go on, then'_ sort of way.

**o.O.o**

It had all been set in motion earlier that week. Summer practice for the lacrosse team had started up, and Stiles really wasn't sure why he and Scott were required to keep up off-season in preparation for the upcoming season of bench-warming (and _more practice_, by the way) they were inevitably going to be doing. Danny had mentioned that the guy he was tentatively seeing was thinking about throwing a party at the abandoned Hale house some weekend (_and wouldn't that be cool, wasn't Josh just so cool?_ Stiles was cool too. He was, really. Just apparently not enough to get on anyone's gaydar, which honestly still bothered him, even though Danny always got frustrated when Stiles tried to ask him _why_ _not_ like it wasn't a big deal. It was!) while in the locker room post-practice, and Jackson had concurred.

"Pretty sure that place isn't safe." Stiles had butted in as he shoved his gear back in his locker, possibly just a _little_ out of jealousy for never being invited to parties. "Being a condemned, burnt-out shell of rotting splinters, and all."

"Pretty sure no one asked you, Stilinski, since you're not invited." Jackson sneered, stupid and shirtless and confident and an asshole like always.

"Stiles can come." Danny chipped in good-naturedly.

"And besides," Jackson continued. "Bet you'd be too chicken-shit to come anyway. You actually _cry_ at ghost stories, and this place is supposed to be haunted. You pussies wouldn't last five minutes."

"Hey!" Stiles and Scott both indignantly replied. Stiles did _not_ cry at ghost stories! That had been _one time_ at the third grade class Halloween party, and it just showed how much of a dick Jackson was that he still even remembered that at all. Jerk.

"Hey, it's fine." Danny cut in, trying to keep the peace. How he was Jackson's best friend was anyone's guess. "You guys can come, and it's _not_ haunted. That's just a stupid story to scare kids."

Jackson smirked, pulling his t-shirt back over his head. "Well, like I said, for those of us with delicate constitutions and histories of –"

But Stiles didn't want to hear it anymore. He threw his gloves on the floor, hard, to keep from punching Jackson right in his stupid face. "You know what? You're an asshole, and Scott and I were actually going to go out there in a few nights anyway to check it out."

"We were?" Scott asked, sounding worried.

_Good job, buddy,_ Stiles thought, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, we were. I bet _you've_ never gone out there before, Jackson."

From the look on Jackson's face, he hadn't, but it was obviously he wasn't going to concede the upper hand. "Yeah, right. I'll believe it when I see it." He drawled, looking smug and pushing roughly past them, shouldering Scott on the way to the door.

"That's right, you will!" Stiles called out after him, refusing to let him get the last word. "Because there will be pictures!"

Jackson didn't reply, probably figuring it was beneath him, but Danny paused awkwardly at the door. "I'll let you guys know if that party happens." He said, before turning and following Jackson.

"So… we're not really going to go out there, are we?" Scott asked, as soon as Jackson and Danny were out of earshot.

Stiles sighed, leaning back against the cool metal door of his locker. "Well, Scott, now we kinda have to."

**o.O.o**

They had waited more than a few days, since Stiles needed to plan for a night when his dad would be out, so that Scott could tell his mom that he was spending the night at the Stilinski's house, but it was still under a week before the perfect night came along, which still counted within the "few days" timeframe. And in any case, Stiles was pretty sure he wasn't going to be able to avoid Jackson for much longer, who sometimes smirked and opened his mouth to say something, and Stiles just _knew_ it was going to be a '_so where's that proof, Stilinski?_'. Stiles' had perfected the art of awkwardly needing to immediately be anywhere else, but it was wearing thin.

The more he thought about it, the more pumped up about it he actually got as they made their way through the dark wooded road. This was the kind of thing that awesome, cool kids did, right? Snuck out at night and went places they weren't supposed to be? Scott begged to differ, it seemed, but the further along the private road they got, the more Stiles got into it – the sneaking around in the dark in the woods, the bite of the cold in the air, and the thrill of maybe-danger that fizzed on the edge of his giddy anticipation to get there.

"How much further, do you think?" Scott asked, after a few minutes of silence other than crisp leaves and twigs crunching under their shoes.

"I dunno, wasn't exactly a point of interest on Google maps." Stiles shot back. He loved Scott, he really, really did, but the kid just did not do well under pressure.

Although, Stiles would have liked to know, for himself, how much further it was. They had parked the jeep off the main road, halfway into the trees, but all the same, he worried about the slim possibility of his dad being called out this way for something, or cruising by on patrol, and spotting it. His jeep wasn't exactly inconspicuous or nondescript by a long shot.

But, luckily enough, it was only another minute or two before the skeletal silhouette of the burnt-out house came into view, illuminated creepily by moonlight in the clearing, surrounded on all sides by dark forest.

"Ha!" Stiles shouted, breaking the silence, and pumping a fist in the air. "Take that, Jackson! Who's the pussy now?"

Scott grinned, looking a bit more lively now that the house was in sight, and they weren't just on an endless dirt road with no destination in sight. "Did you wanna go in… or just take a picture out front?" he asked, fumbling in his jeans for his phone.

"Uh, yeah no, we are not going in there." Stiles said, striding a little more quickly towards the abandoned ruins of the house. "I wasn't kidding when I told Jackson this place was a death-trap waiting to happen. One step in that place and we'd have a rotting beam falling on our heads and killing us or something."

"Sounds like a great place for a party, alright." Scott commented, prodding at his phone until the screen lit up on the camera setting. "So what, just like, take a few myspace-style pictures and we're out?"

"I guess; unless you wanted to stick around?"

"Yeah, not really."

It was awkward trying to hold the phone out to fit both of them in the shot, and then even more awkward trying to find an angle and lighting to show the house behind them. Stiles was about to suggest taking individual pictures of each other, when Scott suddenly lowered the phone altogether.

"What was that?" Scott asked, freezing. Stiles listened, but didn't hear anything. Just Scott being spooked. Again.

"Just your overactive imagination at work." He told Scott, aiming for reassuring, but coming out a little patronizing. Scott seemed quelled nonetheless, going to bring the phone up again, before he stopped again, lowering it and turning it off completely.

"Stiles, I'm serious. I hear something."

Stiles opened his mouth, about to complain that it was nothing, and he was getting cold, so could they just hurry it up and get this over with, when he heard it too. It was a sort of rustling, crunching sound somewhere off to the side and from some distance away, and they both turned to face it, even though it was impossible to see far enough into the dark trees. The creepy, ominous, dark trees.

"Probably just some animal." Stiles forced out, trying to sound offhand even as his heart beat heavily in his ribcage. "Just, let's just take the picture and –"

Suddenly the crashing was much faster, much closer, and much more frantic. Stiles and Scott both stepped back and closer together as the bushes at the edge of what they could see in the forest ripped apart, and something burst out, headed right for them. Scott yelled, Stiles shouted and flailed, and they both ended up in a jumbled heap, scrambling to right themselves and figure out what was happening. Scott got himself up first, breath wheezing as he grabbed at Stiles, trying to pull him to his feet while shouting "I knew it, I _told_ you, oh my god, we're dead!"

Stiles pulled himself upright with Scott's help, and couldn't quite believe his eyes.

A huge, _massive_, hairy beast of a dog stood in front of them, panting heavily and fixing them with sharp eyes that reflected eerily in the moonlight, almost glowing. Its mouth was open, showcasing more sharp teeth than Stiles thought was strictly necessary, and it took him a moment to place the low, reverberating sound in the air as growling. Deep, rumbling growling, coming from the toothy monster that was currently staring them down in the night.

"No wolves in California!" Scott moaned in horror, grabbing at Stiles' hoodie and yanking frantically, trying to pull them both away. "Stiles, I _knew it_ –"

"Scott, shut up and don't move!" Stiles snapped, shoving Scott slightly. The thing wasn't moving, and maybe if they didn't make any abrupt movements or sounds, it would stay where it was. Stiles couldn't quite remember what the protocol was for facing off with a wolf, seeing as he lived in _California_ where there _were no wolves_.

It seemed to work. Scott whimpered pathetically but didn't make any more sudden, jerking movements, and the beast stayed where it was as well, staring them down. It was panting heavily, its jaws dripping ominously, splattering dark liquid on the ground at its massive, clawed feet. It was… dripping quite a lot, actually. Not just from the mouth, Stiles noticed, as they continued their stand-off. Their stand-off that was apparently becoming much more difficult to continue for the wolf, as it swayed unsteadily on its feet, panting breaths coming out in heavy _whuff_s that ghosted in the cold air around its muzzle.

"Scott," He whispered. "I think it's hurt."

Scott let out a sound that sounded very much like a strangled sort of deranged laughter. "I think _we're_ about to get hurt."

"No, I'm serious." Stiles insisted, slowly lowering himself down to a crouching position. "Look at it, it's all bloody and matted up. Get down, you're probably scaring it."

"Are you _insane_?" Scott asked, allowing Stiles to pull him down all the same. "_I'm_ scaring _it_?"

"You're the aspiring vet or whatever." Stiles reminded him. "Animals are more scared of us than we are of them, and all that."

"Really don't think that's how it's going down right now." Scott insisted.

"I'm gonna try to get a better look at it." Stiles said, and shifted, moving to the side to get a view of the wolf that wasn't dead-on. Scott hissed and grabbed at him, and Stiles jerked away, overestimating himself and tripping a few feet to the side.

The reaction was instantaneous – broken out of whatever spell it had been in out of sheer surprise at encountering them, the wolf lunged forward, snarling. Scott yelped and dove off to one side while Stiles lurched to the other, covering his face. He felt a rush of warm air wash over him, then heard a solid _whump_ on the ground, and looked up to see that the wolf had collapsed, one of its front legs dripping blood down from the shoulder, a back leg sticking out at an odd angle.

"Stiles, let's go!" Scott shouted, running over and pulling Stiles to his feet. "Come on, come on, let's _go_!"

Stiles tensed, ready to run while they had the chance, taking one last look back at the wolf. It was panting heavily, its dark fur clumped and dirty along one whole side, and it was making no attempt to get back up, simply staring them down and making low sounds between heaving pants for breath. It was… it was really sad, actually.

"Scott... we can't just leave it." Stiles said. "It's really hurt."

Scott looked at Stiles as if he'd just grown an extra head. "Are you _kidding _me right now?"

"No, come on…" Stiles said, relaxing his stance a bit, no longer preparing to make a mad dash for his life. "Come on, you're supposed to be all about fixing broken animals, and this guy is like… super broken. He needs help."

"No!" Scott exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "Stiles, that's a wild animal! A _dangerous_ wild animal that just tried to eat us!"

"I think he's scared." Stiles observed, lowering himself into a crouch again, slightly closer to the still-collapsed wolf.

"I think _you're crazy_." Scott told him, switching his weight from foot to foot in an anxious desire to leave.

But Stiles had made up his mind, rustling through his pockets and throwing his keys at Scott. "Look, Scott, just go get the car. It'll be able to go through the bushes around the road block, and I have a tarp in the back, so we can wrap him up and take him to –"

"Uh, no! I am not leaving you alone with a wild animal, and –"

"Scott, look at him!" Stiles implored. "He's hurt, and alone, and scared… come on, we have to help him!"

Scott wavered a few more moments, alternating between looking at Stiles like he was crazy, and at the wolf like it was going to lunge at them any moment, before his resolve seemed to crumble. "Fine!" He said, looking frustrated at himself even as he said it. "But if this thing eats us, I am absolutely never, ever going to forgive you."

"You're the best." Stiles told him, eyes not leaving the wolf.

"And you're still a crazy person." Scott grumbled as he jogged off down the dirt road.

"Probably." Stiles acknowledged, but Scott was already too far away to hear him. The wolf was still watching him warily, curling its lip every time Stiles moved, and Stiles sort of hated how afraid and hurt it was. He'd always had a soft spot for dogs, and technically this was a wolf, but really that just made it more awesome.

"Where did you come from, buddy?" Stiles asked. "You're supposed to be extinct around here. But you're definitely a wolf. Big sharp teeth all the better to eat me with, and all that. Looks like someone tried to eat you first, though."

The wolf made a low, irritated, growling sound, shuffling a bit on its elbows, trying to get up.

"No, no, no!" Stiles shushed, shifting slightly and moving his hands in a 'down' gesture that he hoped was placating. "You're hurt, we're gonna help; you just have to stay put, and –"

"Well, well, well, what have we got here?"

Stiles would have had a scathing reply for the cliché phrase if he had the presence of mind to do anything other than jump nearly out of his skin at the sudden, unfamiliar voice abruptly coming out of nowhere _right behind him_. In retrospect, it probably wasn't a great idea to scoot even _closer_ to the wolf in his shock, especially considering that it was growling and snarling even more than before, now, struggling to get to its feet. Stiles tried to shush it with more calming noises and gestures, keeping his hands out of reach of its maw, his eyes flicking back and forth between the wolf and the new person who had just showed up.

"Who are you?" Stiles asked. "What are you doing here?"

She smiled, stepping closer, and Stiles steadfastly stood up to meet her, the rumbling growls of the wolf growing steadily louder behind him. She was smaller than Stiles, but older and with a fierceness to her that he couldn't quite place or understand, and which seemed at odds to her styled, blonde hair and tasteful makeup. And she didn't seem the least bit thrown by the fact that there was a snarling wild wolf right there.

"Why don't you," She said slowly, with a sort of curling pleasure to the words, "let me have my puppy back, and go home? It's late. Little boys shouldn't be out in the woods all alone."

Wow, okay, Stiles did _not_ like this chick.

"I'm pretty sure that's not your _puppy_." Stiles said, because he really couldn't imagine any animal looking less pleased to see anyone, ever. "And this is private property."

Stiles really hated the way she smiled – it was cruel and smug, as if she knew everything, and he was nothing and no one, and she thought that was funny. "That _is_ my puppy, and I can't help but notice that _you_ are here, on private property."

The wolf was standing now, hackles raised and lips curled to reveal rows of sharp teeth once more, and Stiles would be more concerned if he honestly felt like the wolf was the biggest threat right now.

"I don't think he likes you. He's hurt, and I'm going to get him help."

She let out an amused huff. "He _loves_ me." She said vindictively. "And I'm going to help him just fine. Just get out of the way, and no one has to get hurt."

Man, this crazy bitch was just _full_ of clichés. Stiles didn't budge, staring her down, and noticed that she had something on her back, held there by a thick strap across her chest. He'd been to the station with his dad often enough to know a rifle when he saw one.

Stiles had a moment to panic for his own safety, stranded as he was in the woods alone at night with a crazy person with a gun, and to gain a pretty sharp suspicion that said crazy person with a gun was the person responsible for getting the wolf hurt in the first place, before all hell broke loose. Stiles' jeep, driven by Scott, suddenly came barreling down the dirt road, headlights flashing right into their faces around the curve, and behind Stiles, the wolf let out a vicious snarl, knocking Stiles down as it lunged forward, leaping at the woman and cracking her down, snapping its jaws once, right at her throat, before dashing off towards the distracting beams of the jeep's headlights, and disappearing into the woods beyond. Stiles glanced at the woman, who had already rolled over and pulled her gun, attempting to get an aim on the wolf.

"Yeah, I'm out." Stiles announced, jumping to his feet and rushing to the jeep, yanking the passenger door open and clambering in.

"What the hell?" Scott shouted, gripping the steering wheel tightly and looking between Stiles and the scene before the jeep so quickly that Stiles was sure he was going to give himself whiplash. The woman was standing up, still holding her rifle at the ready, and Stiles really had no idea what was going on, but knew that he absolutely no longer wanted any part in it.

"Doesn't matter, just drive!" he yelled at Scott, who thankfully seemed to be right on board with that plan, and proceeded to peel out in a messy u-turn, driving away from the house, and back towards the main road. Stiles shakily ran his hands over his face, and checked the rearview mirror just once before they turned the corner and left the house out of sight… but the wolf was nowhere in sight.

**o.O.o**

For someone who couldn't shout questions and demands for answers fast enough last night as they fled the scene of the… well, not crime, but _only just_, Scott seemed extremely dedicated to absolutely forgetting all about it the next day. No matter how much Stiles prodded and tried to discuss the previous night's events, Scott appeared to have taken the '_if we don't acknowledge it, it wasn't real_' approach to heart, and refused to engage Stiles about anything that even hinted to the topics of forests, abandoned houses, strange ladies, guns, and especially wolves.

"I'm just saying." Stiles tried, one more time, as he and Scott headed into the locally owned coffee-shop. "That we should probably tell the Fish and Game department that –"

"Oh my god!" Scott burst out, and a good portion of the customers in the shop turned to look at him. Scott ducked his head, embarrassed, and continued in a frustrated whisper. "Can we please stop talking about… wolves." The last word was mumbled so quietly that Stiles almost didn't catch it, as if Scott was afraid that if he said '_wolf_' too loudly, it would summon one right to them.

After they got their drinks and started wandering down the street for lack of anything better to do, Stiles was having a hard time thinking of anything to talk about other than topics that were apparently on Scott's very strict no-no list. He was about to open up a discussion about them again anyways, when Scott (probably anticipating this) said, out of nowhere, "So there's a new girl in my summer class."

Willing to put last night's events on hold temporarily, Stiles played along. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, she's…" Oh no, Scott had that dopey, smiley look on his face that Stiles hadn't seen for a while, but he knew instantly where this was going. "She's new in town, and she's catching up for when school starts next year, you know."

"And she's super cute and funny and wonderful and perfect all around." Stiles stated, no use in forestalling the inevitable.

"What?! I mean, yeah, but how did you –"

"Oh come on, man, you've got that derpy puppylove look all over your face." Stiles said with a grin, slinging an arm around Scott and shaking him a little. "So go on, spill."

As they walked, and Scott told Stiles all about the new love of his life ('_her name is Allison, and her hair is like chocolate waves, and her eyes are like bright shining crystals, and she's so smart and really nice and…_') Stiles let his brain wander a bit, used enough to Scott's speaking patterns by now that he could fill in with proper attentive noises and phrases when needed, but mostly trying to understand how a wolf had gotten into Beacon Hills, and why some psycho bitch was hunting it, and what were the chances that they had run into them? Maybe that woman had brought the wolf there and released it to hunt for sport? That seemed the only explanation for a single wolf being hurt and in the woods where it didn't belong, but was awfully cruel. Had the wolf smelled them and come running to tear them apart in its rage, or, alternately, seek protection because it was hurt? Maybe it had known the wreckage of the abandoned house was there, and it was going to try and hide, until Stiles and Scott had startled it?

"… and, so I saw her looking around in her bag, so I offered her a pen, and then – hey, who's that?"

Brought out of his thoughts by the direct question, Stiles glanced up to where Scott was looking, and – wow.

Half a block up from where Stiles and Scott had stopped, someone else had stopped and was looking right back at them. And that someone was not anyone Stiles had ever seen before, because trust him, he would remember a face like that. Dark, sharp hair and a strong jaw that was covered in a hint of stubble, leather jacket over a sculpted torso, tall and absolutely gorgeous; this was not someone who looked like they belonged in dingy little Beacon Hills. Stiles was a little bit intimidated, and a little bit in love.

"Why's he just staring at us?" Scott whispered, as neither of them made any attempt to stop staring, themselves.

"No idea." Stiles said, dropping his arm from around Scott's shoulders finally, but then feeling even more awkward just standing there with them at his sides. The guy's intense fix on them was a bit unnerving. On closer inspection, under the sharp features and roughed-up-stylishness, he almost looked familiar in some way, but Stiles absolutely could not place where he could have seen the guy before. Stiles gave a little awkward wave, not sure what else to do.

"Dude, what are you doing?" Scott hissed. "He's… oh god, he's coming over."

Now that the guy was approaching, Stiles felt a little less in love, and a lot more intimidated, and he immediately flailed into survival mode. "Scatter!" he snapped out, dropping his drink and shoving Scott into the crosswalk that had just turned green, spinning on his own heel to rush into a bookstore, the little bell jingling over the door as he opened it.

"Stiles!" He heard Scott yell back, just before the door closed behind him, and he quickly skedaddled down the aisles into the back section full of history and mathematics reference anthologies that no one ever frequented. Stiles hastened to grab a huge dusty tomb about WWI down from the shelf, sliding down to the floor to rest the open book on his knees that were pulled up to his chest, hiding his face behind the crisp pages.

The little bell over the door rang out again, and Stiles went tense as he heard low, murmured conversation from the front, before it went quiet again. After a few minutes passed, Stiles was finally starting to relax, casually skimming the open pages in front of him that detailed the Battle of Gravenstafel, when the book was suddenly knocked out of his hand, and he was being dragged to his feet, pressed back to the bookshelves behind him. He would have liked to pretend that he kept his dignity and wits about him in the flurry of activity, but his flailing limbs and the shocked little sound that came out of his mouth undermined that wishful hope.

"Uh, hey, hi." Stiles said, once he had regained the power of somewhat-coherent speech, looking into Mr. Intense Staring's face, less than a foot from his own and not looking pleased. "Uh, how can I help you?"

"Who are you?"

That was a good question. At the moment, Stiles was not sure, himself, but he gave it a shot. "I, ah, I'm Stiles. Stilinski. Stiles Stilinski, although obviously that's a nickname – the Stiles part, not the – erk –"

Stiles lost his power of speech once more as Mr. Hot-But-Broody leaned in a bit closer, pressing Stiles more firmly into the bookshelf. A ledge was sticking uncomfortably into his lower spine, and he wiggled a bit, causing the grip that Mr. Shoves A Lot had in Stiles shirt to tighten slightly.

"Well, Stiles, you and your little friend need to stay off of private property if you know what's good for you." He said, eyebrows furrowing further into the glare he was fixing on Stiles.

Mind in overdrive, Stiles tried to put the pieces together, but nothing seemed to fit. He honestly had no idea who this guy was, or why he would be so upset about private property that Stiles had no recollection of ever trespassing on, since the only place he had been that he shouldn't have been in recent memory was the abandoned Hale property, which was, you know, abandoned. Stiles' phone vibrated in his pocket, but he figured that now was really not the time to check it.

"Dude, I'm sorry, I really, _really_ have no idea what you're talking about, but I promise that if you got broken into, or t.p'd, or, I don't know, someone ding-dong-ditched you, it wasn't me. I swear!"

The guy looked almost taken aback for a moment (and Stiles was used to having that effect on people, by now) before he went right back to looking grumpy and determined. "No one _ding-dong-ditched_ me. I'm talking about you and your friend sneaking around on my property last night. It's closed off for a reason, and I don't want to see you, or anyone else, back there. Got it?"

"I – what?" Stiles shot back. "Last night? You mean, the abandoned Hale house? Wait, you were there? Oh my god, so did you see –"

"It's not abandoned." He said, cutting Stiles off. "It's mine, and I don't want nosy kids messing around there. It's dangerous."

Stiles really had no intention of going back there after what and transpired the night before, but _speaking of_, if this guy had been there, somewhere – although Stiles couldn't imagine where – then he must have seen… Stiles' phone buzzed again, and once more he resolutely ignored it.

"Okay, fine, but you saw it last night, right?" Stiles said in a rush. "The wolf, and that crazy lady with the rifle? What the hell was that? Where were _you_?"

The guy narrowed his eyes dangerously, letting go of Stiles' shirt and stepping back. "I don't know what you're talking about. And neither do you. Just don't come back."

Sucking in deep breaths, Stiles watched him walk away, disappearing from sight around the bookshelves, before his brain suddenly came back online and he lurched forward, intent on grabbing him and making him tell the truth. Maybe that guy hadn't been there in person, but if it was his property, maybe he had security cameras, and if he had seen Stiles and Scott on them, he had _definitely_ seen the wolf and the crazy lady, and Stiles wanted answers. He heard the little bell over the door ding as Mr. Get Off My Property exited, and Stiles knocked over a cart of books in his haste to get to the door before it was too late, throwing out a breathless "Sorry, _sorry_!", but by the time he got out the door and back onto the street, the guy was nowhere to be seen

Letting out a strangled sound of disappointment and frustration, Stiles kicked at the air, spinning in a full circle to do one last visual sweep of the area, but coming up empty-handed. Groaning, Stiles jammed his hand into his pocket, pulling his phone out.

_(1) missed call: Scott_

_(3) new text messages:_

_**Scott: where r u?**_

_**Scott: dude srsly did that guy get u?**_

_**Scott: pls respond! :(**_

Stiles sighed, punching at Scott's number in his contacts, hearing his best friend pick up right away, sounding relieved.

"_Dude, what happened? Who was that guy? Did he talk to you? What did he want?_" Scott frantically asked. "_I'm coming back to get you, are you still at the bookstore?_"

"Yeah, still here." Stiles sighed.

"_So… what did he want?_"

He wanted Stiles and Scott to stay away, but he hadn't counted on Stiles being insatiable, and bloodhound-intent when he wanted something. But if Stiles told Scott what had happened, Scott would be even more spooked, and refuse involvement even more than he already had, and Stiles really could use an accomplice.

"Uh, false alarm." Stiles said, hoping Scott wouldn't hear the lie in his voice. "He kept going, must have been looking at someone else behind us."

"Oh." Came Scott's confused, but trusting, reply. "Well that's weird."

"Yeah." Stiles agreed, talking to himself more than Scott at that point. "Really weird."

**o.O.o**

The thing was, Stiles had never excelled at schoolwork, but he was _excellent_ at studying, retaining information, and applying that information when he wanted to.

A quick Google search when Stiles got home had pulled up a plethora of information about the apparently not-so-abandoned Hale house, and the Hale family who had resided there, and the mysterious fire that had killed all but two of them. Arson, apparently, although no one had ever been convicted. Of the remaining two Hale's – Derek and Laura – it seemed as though Stiles had run into Derek. There was less information on him than Stiles would have liked, but a few old newspaper clippings let Stiles know that Derek had gone to Beacon Hills High School a few years before Stiles, which explained why he had looked vaguely familiar.

Digging a little deeper, and possibly using his dad's password – that he _really_ shouldn't make so easy or leave lying around where anyone digging through his drawers in his private office at work where _anyone _could find it, really – to access current city records, Stiles learned that the Hale property had, indeed, recently been passed into Derek Hale's name, although strangely enough there were no accompanying building permits attached. Was Derek just going to leave that death trap the way it was? Where was he staying in the meanwhile?

Before he could root around further and break into a few more private records to find the answers to these questions, Stiles realized the time and swore, hastening to get his lacrosse gear in order and head to practice, as he was already late.

Practice was more grueling than usual, as coach Finstock had detected Stiles' attempt to sneak into the back of the group huddle unnoticed, and made him run suicides until Stiles had felt ready collapse. After that torture was over, Stiles joined the tail-end of everyone else's practice until the whistle finally blew and they were finally sent to the showers.

"Remind me why we put ourselves through this meaningless torture, again?" Stiles moaned, pulling his jersey over his head and letting it drop to the ground as he collapsed onto a bench.

Scott smiled, out of breath as he unlatched his locker. "Because it'll get us popular?"

"Yeah." Stiles snorted. "If we don't die of fatigue first."

"Why were you late, anyway?" Scott asked. Stiles tried to think of a way to bring up Derek Hale and the Hale property without Scott getting irritated that Stiles was trying to bring up the-night-that-never-actually-happened-if-you-pretend-hard-enough, when he was shoved sideways by Jackson, who then actually stopped in front of them, looking more sour than usual.

"Uh, hi." Scott warily greeted him.

"What do you want?" Stiles drawled, past the point of practicing politeness around Jackson.

Jackson thinned his lips into a disgruntled line, seeming to brace himself, before speaking. "Danny's asshole boyfriend broke up with him, and I convinced him to go out this weekend, but he told me to invite _you_ jerkoffs, since he invited you to the party at the Hale house that didn't work out." He said it all at once, voice strained as though he hated every word that escaped his mouth, and Stiles was honestly a bit thrown. He looked to Scott, who appeared just as confused as Stiles was to get an invitation to anything from Jackson, even as begrudging and second-hand as it was.

"Uh…"

Sneering, Jackson continued. "If I had it my way, you wouldn't be anywhere _near_ me in my free time, but Danny told me to tell you, so here – " he shoved a crumpled piece of paper forward, and Stiles reached out for it on impulse "– you've been told. If you guys show up and screw anything up, I'm seriously going to kick your asses."

And with that, he was gone.

"Well that was nice of him." Stiles said, rolling his eyes.

Scott still looked very confused. "What just happened? Did Jackson just invite us to a party?"

Stiles unfolded the crumpled piece of torn notebook paper he was still holding, flattening it out a bit. There was an address hastily scrawled onto it in Jackson's distinctively half-ass manner, and wow, who knew handwriting could be so aggressive? Scott leaned over to look at it as Stiles pulled his phone out, doing a quick map search to see where Jackson was attempting to direct him.

"Does it lead to the garbage center or something?" Scott asked, tilting his head as Stiles went to click the pin marking the address on the map on his phone, and honestly Stiles had been expecting something similar. He definitely hadn't been expecting… this.

"Ah, no." Stiles replied, a bit in shock, as the results popped up. "This is definitely not the garbage center."

**o.O.o**

Most small towns and cities in the middle of nowhere were a bit podunk, with nothing but mom-and-pop shops, and a lackluster school system, and miles and miles of all-encompassing farmland, which left a lot of bored, reckless youths with nothing to do for entertainment, resulting in a plethora of teenage pregnancies and meth-heads.

Beacon Hills county was a smallish area, sort of in the middle of a great big stretching canvas of Northern California nothingness, but it was well off. It was no uppity-gated-mansion-Montecito, but it meant that almost everyone had nice big houses with nice big yards, and they had schools without portables clogging up the original buildings, but most importantly – and this is what really made the difference and kept the youth standards up – they had a real downtown, with a real mall, and real name-brand stores along with the local shops, real theatres that got new releases, a real arcade and bowling alley, and, after dark, real bars and clubs.

Right now, it was after dark, and Stiles and Scott were planning on taking advantage of said bar and club scene, although the non-delinquency of their youth was up for debate, seeing as they were technically too young to get drinks, but were going to do their damndest to get some anyway.

"Thanks again for the ride, Danny." Scott said.

"Yeah man, and sorry for the short notice." Stiles piped up from the backseat of Danny's very practical car. Normally stiles hated being put in the backseat, but it was nice and roomy back there. Plus he got to bother Scott by kicking the passenger seat by "accident" every so often. "Jeep was working fine this morning, I have no idea why she wouldn't start."

"It's fine, guys." Danny said, turning to smile at them both briefly before pulling onto a side-street and scanning for an open spot. "Thanks for coming."

It took a few passes, but they finally found a spot, and Stiles scrambled at the door handle, launching himself out eagerly, catching himself before tripping, and rocking back and forth on his feet as Danny locked up, and answered his ringing phone.

"Hey Jackson… yeah, I know, we just parked… okay, be right there."

Stiles barely resisted the urge to make a barfing sound at realizing Jackson was on the other end of the line, and Scott must have been thinking along the same lines, because he made a face at Stiles, nodding towards Danny's phone. But if it weren't for Danny, they wouldn't have been invited out at all, and Jackson was a part of that package deal.

Sure enough, they had barely stepped around the corner and into the bright neon lights advertising Wildcat – the one club with the not-so-secret reputation of attracting individuals of the not-so-heterosexual persuasion – when there was Jackson, with his stupid, douche-y face… and a glorious, beautiful queen of a girl on his arm.

"Heeeeey Lydia." Stiles greeted, sidling up close enough to be on her radar, but far enough to be out of range of Jackson, who was scowling at him and wrapping Lydia closer. "What's a lovely lady like you doing in a place like this? Hey, I know, how about you and me –"

"Back off, Stilinski." Jackson growled, and Stiles obligingly stepped back, putting his hands up. Fawning over Lydia was mostly just habit at this point, and although he still thought she was one of the most amazing and beautiful and intelligent people he had ever known, Stiles accepted that she, for some unknown reason, had picked Jackson.

Didn't mean he wouldn't try and get at least one good stroke of her flowing strawberry curls tonight, if his lucky fingers got the chance.

"Maybe next time." Lydia said, smirking, as they made their way to the door, in a patronizing tone that really meant '_never gonna happen_'.

"Ouch." Scott said with an amused grin, elbowing Stiles in the side.

Stiles pushed him back. "Hey man, not cool! You're supposed to be on my side! If you weren't my date tonight, I'd totally leave you in the dust, see how you like it."

Looking a bit uncomfortable as they joined the line to get in, Scott tried giving Stiles one of his guilty puppy looks that he knew won Stiles over even when he was mad. "Actually…" he said, and Stiles didn't know where this was going, but he already didn't like it. "I… might have kind of invited Allison to come?"

Jaw dropping open, Stiles couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Oh, not cool, dude! This was a bro-date! I can't believe you're ditching me for a _girl_!"

Scott looked wounded, but determined. "Man, I'm sorry, but it's _Allison_, and I didn't even think she was going to say yes, and –"

"Whatever." Stiles butted in, waving it off with a flippant hand gesture. "Just for that, I'm holding you to at _least_ one dance, and you owe me a drink." Stiles was bummed and betrayed, sure, but he wasn't going to begrudge his best friend a date with his crush. Scott rolled his eyes, but nudged shoulders with Stiles affectionately, and all was forgiven.

There were… a lot more people inside than Stiles was expecting, once they stepped in. They almost immediately lost Danny, Jackson, and Lydia, when Jackson waved across the room, and proceeded to drag the two of them after him. Stiles grabbed tight onto Scott's arm to keep from losing him, and they optimistically made their way to the bar.

It took them about five seconds to get shamed away from ordering a drink, and Stiles only relented his pestering for alcohol when he realized that the bartender probably had the power to kick their underage asses out to the curb before they could say '_whiskey_'.

"I'm holding you to that dance, you know!" Stiles shouted over the music to Scott. He really did want to get out onto the floor, and wasn't sure if he was prepared to brave it alone, especially considering that most of the crowd was gay, and he didn't want any of the girls to think he was being an obnoxious or a creep, or for any of the guys to think he was leading them on. Not that Stiles couldn't appreciate a fine male specimen, but he knew a lot of people came to clubs looking for more than a dance, and he didn't want to bite off more than he was prepared to chew.

"No you're not." Scott said, sounding like he still thought it was a sort of embarrassing joke.

"Uh, definitely not joking." Stiles said, grabbing Scott and pulling him along towards the mass of bodies under the pulsing, multi-coloured lights. "And I'm pretty sure you wanna get this out of the way before Allison gets here, and gets super jealous when I collect what I am owed right in front of her. Which I will, and you know it."

"Oh my god." Scott complained, but allowed himself to be dragged. Because underneath it all, he really was Stiles' best friend.

There was pretty much no way, from the start, that it could have been anything less than hilariously awkward. As the bass pulsed through the room, and all the jostling bodies pushed everyone into direct contact, Stiles laughed and threw his arms around Scott's neck, and Scott rolled his eyes and mouthed out another '_oh my god, Stiles_', but put his hands on Stiles hips anyway. Stiles steered them around, bumping into everyone and laughing out apologies as Scott looked half like he was having a great time, and half like he was going to die of embarrassment.

"Stiles, I think someone grabbed my butt! I think it was a guy!" Scott told him incredulously, and Stiles – who had definitely had his butt grabbed more than once already – laughed at how adorably clueless Scott was sometimes.

Scott actually let Stiles keep him out for another couple songs, and they were in the middle of jumping up and down with their hands thrown up to a particularly upbeat song, chests bumping and laughing, when Scott (obviously using some sort of sixth sense, since there was no way he would have been able to hear a ringtone or feel a vibration setting at this point) pulled out his phone and showed Stiles the screen with a blinding grin – Allison was calling.

"Go get 'em, tiger!" Stiles told him, slapping Scott on the back as he attempted to disentangle himself from the crowd, answering the phone and heading for the door. In an effort to not get totally swallowed up by the heaving crowd, Stiles pushed his way to where he had last seen their group headed, hoping to maybe catch Danny or Lydia sans-Jackson.

Stiles had gotten used to being pushed around and grabbed at during the duration of their visit to the club, so he didn't immediately panic when a firm hand closed around his wrist, tugging him back. When he turned to see who had a hold of him – maybe someone who had mistaken him for someone else, or who knows, maybe someone who thought he was attractive and wanted a piece of that action – well, _that's_ when he panicked.

"What the hell?! Let me go!" Stiles yelped, attempting to put the brakes on and tug his wrist free, but it turned out that Derek Hale had a very strong grip.

He wondered, briefly, why no one else was noticing a teenage boy getting dragged away by an older stranger, but chalked it up to no one being able to hear him over the music, and everyone being so used to the undulating crowd of bodies that one more bump didn't register as Stiles was dragged along. Stiles saw the bathroom coming up and increased his struggle – no way was he getting dragged into some shady, dank bathroom for god only knew what nefarious purpose!

"Let me go!" He insisted one more time, but then Stiles was being pushed up against a dark wall in the corner; not particularly out of sight, but definitely not inconspicuous enough for Derek to comfortably get away with murdering him in. Emboldened by this revelation, he opened his mouth to bitch at Derek some more about the rough handling, but then Derek was slamming his free fist into the wall over Stiles' head, leaning his whole body forward to cage Stiles in, still gripping Stile's wrist like a vice.

"What are you doing here?" Derek growled, and he was so close Stiles could feel Derek's breath against the side of his face.

"What am I –? What are _you_ doing here?" Stiles rebutted. "And what's with the manhandling! I haven't been back to your stupid house!"

"I know you haven't." Derek said through clenched teeth. "What I want to know is why you and your friend Scott are here _with Kate_."

Stiles mentally floundered, coming up with nothing. "Kate? Dude, I don't even know a Kate! I came here with Scott and Danny and Jackson and Lydia. I think some of the other lacrosse guys are here, but I seriously don't know whoever Kate is."

This seemed to give Derek pause, as he frowned and looked Stiles, searchingly, right in the eyes. "You're not lying."

If he could have, Stiles would have thrown up his arms in frustration, but one was currently pinned, and the other would have smacked right into Derek since he was so close. And Stiles really didn't think smacking Derek would be a good idea right now. "I know I'm not lying! Congratulations for both of us! Please let me go now!"

But it wasn't going to be that easy, apparently, since Stiles' pleas for release seemed to bring about Derek's second wind. "But I saw her – I saw Scott going to meet her and her niece at their car in the parking lot. Kate is here, and _Scott was with her_."

Derek's grip tightened in frustration, and Stiles tried to press himself further back into the wall, with no avail. Talk about stuck between a rock and a hard place. Stiles licked his lips nervously, glancing around, but still no one was paying them any attention. Anywhere else, Stiles would be dumbfounded at the general public's lack of observational skills, but he knew that in here, no one was paying attention to anyone other than who they were trying to catch the eye of. The music drowned out their irritated raised voices, and honestly… Stiles paused, swallowing the awkward lump in his throat that had lodged there at the thought. Honestly, it probably looked like they were just another amorous couple seeking some semblance of privacy to make out in, in the dark corner at the far end of the room. To anyone else, it wouldn't have been worth batting an eye at, but the thought of how they must look to an outside observer made Stiles feel a bit restless in his own skin. Derek gave him a little shake, and Stiles realized he was still waiting on some sort of an explanation.

"Look, Scott got a call from Allison a minute ago and went out to meet her. That is literally all I know, dude. I seriously have no idea who Kate is." Stiles reiterated.

He must have said a correct key word or something, because Derek's gaze sharpened on him, making Stiles feel more pinned to the spot than ever.

"Allison." Derek repeated, like it was important. "Allison Argent?"

"I think so?" Stiles said. The last name sounded a bit familiar, but honestly he mostly glazed over Scott's long-winded tales of Allison. "He met her in his summer school class. He's got a crazy stupid puppy crush on her, and I am an awesome friend who let himself get ditched for her. He never said anyone else was coming. If Allison brought a friend, this is the first I'm hearing of it. Probably Scott too." Stiles added. "He's gonna be so bummed - he thought this was, like, a date."

Derek was quiet for few beats, before apparently coming to a decision. He backed away, and Stiles nearly sighed a breath of relief, but then Derek was pulling Stiles along with him.

"We need to get you out of here."

Stiles held his ground. "Uh, no. I'm definitely not leaving with you."

"_Stiles_." Derek growled, frustrated. "We need to leave, and we need to leave now. If Kate sees you – if Kate sees you and me _together_ – it's not going to be good."

"What is the imminent threat she poses, and how the hell is she even going to know who I am?!" Stiles burst, finally giving into the impulse to throw his hands up. Derek's arm went with Stiles' that he was still holding onto, and if everything wasn't so confusing and weird right now, it would have been a little funny. "Dude, you are being, like, terrifying levels of cryptic and nonsense right now."

Derek actually full-on snarled, and Stiles barely had the chance to be shocked before he was pressed up against the wall again. Anything he would have thought about saying died when Derek leaned in so close their foreheads were almost touching, and he could feel Derek's frantic breath on his own lips. Stiles' blood-flow took the opportunity to betray him, and started rushing south. _'Not now, not now, traitorous body!'_ Stiles pleaded. _'I know he's not exactly unattractive in any way imaginable, but now is most definitely__** not the time**__!'_

"Kate was the one with the gun the other night, when you two were sneaking around in the woods. I can only assume she didn't recognize Scott just now because he was in the car that night, and the headlights were too bright. But if she sees _you_ she will recognize you, and you do not want that. We need to leave _now_, and you need to let Scott know not to go anywhere near her again, just in case. Do you understand?"

Stiles' brain whirled, trying to process everything at once. "She was… with the gun – but you told me, the other day, that there was no crazy chick with a gun! What the hell, Derek? What's going on?"

Only seeming momentarily taken aback at Stiles knowing his name, Derek tugged at Stiles' wrist again. "If you come with me… I'll tell you. But we need to leave _now_."

"I…" Stiles started, sort of desperately curious, but knowing he shouldn't just leave with someone who was basically a total stranger. A total stranger in the habit of roughing him around. "I don't have a car. I got a ride here."

"I have mine."

"But Scott –"

"He'll be fine for now. Just text him or something, let him know not to leave with her, even if it means letting Allison leave by herself."

Ha, that was going to be easier said than done. But Stiles found himself allowing Derek to drag him away, and he pulled out his phone to compose a text message to Scott.

'_Hey man gotta go something came up. Don't leave with allison if her aunt kate offers u a ride home. Has to do with the other night. Ill tell u later.'_

Stiles pressed send, hoping that Scott would at least check his phone before leaving, because he sure as hell wasn't going to worry about not finding Stiles around, now that Allison had arrived. Suddenly, he crashed into Derek, who had been pulling him through the crowd, but had stopped with no warning.

"Stiles?"

Peering around Derek's leather jacketed frame, Stiles saw Danny, half in the arms of some guy Stiles had never seen before, but one of his arms was thrown out in front of Derek, halting their progress towards what Stiles could now see was an 'employees only' hallway.

"Ah, hey Danny." Stiles greeted, trying and failing to sound casual, and not at all as if he was being dragged around by a ridiculously attractive man of dubious sanity. "What's up?"

Danny frowned, looking between Stiles and Derek. "Not much. You okay? You, ah, going somewhere?"

It took him a second, but suddenly Danny's pointed looks and raised eyebrow clicked. Danny thought – oh god, it looked like – that Stiles was being unwillingly dragged off for some dubious intimacy with a male stranger.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I uh…" Stiles tried, clearing his throat awkwardly and attempting to smile reassuringly. "You know, just… having some fun. Ha ha ha, so, um, yeah. You have fun too. I'll, ah, see you later."

"Alright." Danny hesitantly replied as Derek started tugging Stiles towards the back again; Danny looked surprised, a bit curious, and a bit like maybe some pieces were clicking into place. "Have fun. Be safe."

"_Oh my god_." Stiles hissed, feeling his cheeks flush, as Derek plowed right through the 'employee's only' entrance (and why was that thing not locked or monitored in some way?) and led him past a few more doors, down a short corridor, around a corner, and then they were suddenly outside, around the back where all of the huge dumpsters were pushed against the wall and loading areas were blocked off on the pavement in bold yellow stripes. Derek pressed a hand to Stiles' chest, as if he thought Stiles was just going to make a run for it if left out of direct contact, and went very still, looking out at… nothing, as far as Stiles could tell. But whatever was out there in the nothing must have passed inspection, because then Derek was dragging him around to the side street – the same one Danny had parked on, in fact, and oh god, was Derek stalking him? – and stopping in front of the nicest car Stiles had ever seen in person.

"Oh my god." Stiles got out in a strangled, awestruck voice. It was beautiful – all sleek, sharp lines, and black as the night. Stiles had never been into muscle cars, but something about this beast of a Camaro (though his jeep was his first love, and his opinion had _nothing to do with the idea of Derek behind the wheel of it, thank you very _much) called to his soul.

"Stop saying that." Derek told him, sounding irritated. "It's annoying."

"Oh my god," Stiles reiterated. "This is yours?" Stiles mentally took back his thoughts about Derek being a stalker – stalkers did not drive cars this amazingly nice, and, admittedly, flashy. Cars like this cost a lot of money, and drew a lot of attention.

"Obviously." Derek deadpanned, drawing out his keys and unlocking it. "Get in."

Stiles didn't need telling twice.

With a dull roar, they pulled away from the curb and left the club behind, and Stiles took a brief moment to question his sanity for getting into a car with a stranger in the middle of the night without telling anyone where he was going, before he remembered that he had questions that he wanted answers to. He very firmly did not think of phrases involving curiosity and cats getting themselves killed.

"So… you gonna tell me why you kidnapped me, and why a crazy lady who you firmly denied the existence of previously is now Threat Priority One? Oh, and, fun fact – my dad's the Sheriff, so if I go missing, your ass is grass. Like, they won't be able to identify the body." Stiles said conversationally, sinking into the plush passenger seat.

Derek exhaled in a very frustrated manner, gripping the steering wheel tightly, as if he didn't actually want to answer, but realized he had no choice at this point. "She's… a hunter."

"No shit."

"Damnit Stiles, just shut up for two seconds and let me explain, if you want to know so bad." Derek snapped. "You saw her the other night, with… with the wolf. What she does, it's not right. And it's against the –" Derek seemed to have a hard time getting his words to come out the way he wanted to, all awkward pauses and gritting out the facts as if it pained him to admit them. "– law. It's a sick game to her. She likes hurting things, breaking them."

Derek paused for a little too long, and Stiles dearly wanted to interrupt, ask how this was supposed to have anything to do with him, but he managed to hold his tongue, lest Derek get too annoyed and refused to continue entirely.

"And you saw her doing it." Derek continued. "You saw her, and you got between her and the wolf, and then you got away, so now there's a loose end."

Stiles' eyes widened in disbelief. "And so what, now she's out to _kill me _to tie things up?" No way. There was no way this was his life. He'd just been going into the woods on a dare with a friend, there was no way it had spiraled that out of control. Was there?

"She might not kill you." Derek told him. "But she'd get into your head. Threaten you. Make life hard for you and the people you care about, until she figured out what you do or don't know, what she could get out of you. She would hurt you. That's if she saw you alone. If she saw you with me, it would be… less pleasant."

…

Well, okay then.

What the hell had Stiles gotten into?

**o.O.o**

End of part 1! I had intended to get this all done as a oneshot, but I am barely squeezing this bit in under my own self-imposed deadline as it is, so I hope everyone enjoyed it so far, and I will try to get the next part(s) up as soon as possible!


	2. don't look back

Hello again! I am so, SO sorry that it has taken me so stupidly long to post the next installment for this story! I think there should only be one more part to go after this chapter, and I can't say it'll be up super soon (because I'm going through an advanced training program at work that absolutely drains me of all physical and emotional energy, bleh) but in the meantime if you'd like to keep up with me on tumblr, I go by **QuirkPuppy** over there!

Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who has thus far read, reviewed, favourited, and subscribed to this story! You guys are awesome and I love you and I hope you enjoy the following chapter as well!

**.o.**

**o.O.o**

Stiles wasn't able to drag much more out of Derek, other than what he had already learned about psycho huntresses and wolves and Stiles being on some sort of tentative hit-list. Stiles wheedled the best he knew how – and he could wheedle with the best of them – but Derek just got irritated and asked Stiles for his address so he could take him home. Derek then proceeded to take possibly the most out-of-the-way and confusing route back to Stiles' house that only an insane person could have dreamed up in their wildest nightmare. Which made no sense. It wasn't like… there was no way Derek thought they were being _followed_ or something, right?

_Right_?

"Here we are." Derek said, sometime later, after Stiles had gotten caught up in imagining car chases and exploding road blocks and high-speed shoot-outs.

"Uh, sort of..." Stiles slowly replied, not making any move to get out of the car just yet. "If by _here_ you mean _a block away and around the corner_, then yes. We are here. You know you're a total creeper, right? Like, there's just no way you've never been told how sketchy you are before."

"Just get out, Stiles."

"Fine." Stiles shot back, rolling his eyes as he unbuckled his seatbelt. "But if I get mauled on the way, or kidnapped from my dark empty house the moment I put a foot over the threshold, it's your fault for not walking me to the door like a proper gentleman."

He had barely managed to pull the handle out and crack the door open when Derek was grabbing Stiles' arm, holding him in place.

"What now?" Stiles asked over his shoulder.

"Are you telling me that you're home alone?"

"Well, yeah." Stiles said. "But don't worry – I'm super great at swinging paint cans down the stairs on ropes and booby-trapping toolboxes over the doors."

"This isn't a _joke_!" Derek growled, and Stiles frowned.

"Dude, I _told_ you that my dad is the Sheriff. Crime never sleeps – he's gotta be the justice in the night a few times a week or whatever. It's not a big deal."

"It _is_ a big deal." Derek snapped. "Dammit, Stiles…"

And suddenly Derek was letting him go, turning the car off, and getting out.

"Um." Stiles said, fumbling out onto the sidewalk, where Derek was standing, hands in the pockets of his jacket and looking impatient. "I was just kidding about walking me to the door."

Derek huffed out an irritated and disbelieving sound, turning without a word and striding purposefully down the block towards Stiles' house.

"So…" Stiles started, after a few minutes of silence, when they came up to his door and Derek crowded his way onto the porch. "This has been fun. But I got it from here, man. I'm not like, expecting a goodnight kiss or anything."

Derek lifted an eyebrow in a scathing sort of way, but made no other reply, and didn't leave.

"Sooo… I'm just going to… go inside." Stiles told him, patting down his pockets and pulling out his keys. He got the door open, and tried to slink in and close it on Derek, but the guy was _right there_, and Stiles didn't want to, like, slam the door on Derek's fingers or something, which gave Derek just enough leeway through Stiles' lack of firmness to push his way inside.

"Well, you're not a vampire." Stiles nervously joked. Derek was in his house. Derek knew that they were alone. Oh god, maybe he was a stalker after all –

But Derek had gone very still, and looked – as much as was possible with his chiseled features and perpetual frown – a bit unsettled. "What does that mean?"

"Uh…" Stiles stammered. "Because you came in uninvited? Stepped over the threshold to my home without permission? And… vampires… need permission?"

That seemed to relax Derek for some reason. "Don't say stupid things." He told Stiles, before looking around at whatever he could see of the rest of the house from the entryway. "Does your house have security?"

Stiles frowned, stepping towards his lacrosse stick that was propped up in the corner by the door. "Yeah, we have an alarm system. Works really well, it's very loud. Also, just in case you forgot, my dad is the Sheriff. So…" He wrapped his hand around the crosse. "Goodnight."

Derek eyed Stiles, and the tight grip he had on his crosse, brows furrowing before he caught on and sighed in a put-upon manner. "I'm not the one who's going to hurt you, Stiles."

"Well you'll forgive me." Stiles returned, laying the sarcasm on thick and not letting go of his makeshift weapon. "But I'm not used to _anyone_ wanting to hurt me, and frankly you're not exactly acting non-threatening."

Making another one of those long-suffering sounds, Derek stepped back, doing one more visual sweep of the house, looking upwards as if he could see through the ceiling to Stiles' room. "No one's here." He announced, decisively.

"I told you that." Stiles reminded him. Derek stared at him as if _he_ was the idiot for a moment, before holding out his hand.

"Give me your phone."

Alarm bells went off in Stiles' head, and he pulled the crosse in front of himself defensively. What the _hell_ had he been thinking, running off with this guy and _letting him know where he lived, oh my god_. _Stupid!_ "Uh, yeah. Not gonna do that."

Scowling, Derek pulled his hand back, reaching into his jacket's pockets and rummaging around. Stiles' heart skipped a few beats and started pounding on double time. The door was _right there_ and if he made a quick break for it, he could be down the street and yelling for all the neighbours to hear before Derek had a chance to –

"Here."

Derek had pulled out a pen and a scrap of paper, and he scribbled something down before handing it to Stiles, who took it on impulse.

"Get ahold of me if anything unusual happens. It doesn't matter what it is, or when it happens. Just let me know."

His phone number. Derek had given Stiles… his phone number? In case of an emergency? If this was all a ruse, it was certainly the most confusingly elaborate one that Stiles had ever encountered.

"Uh… okay."

Derek nodded, as if that decided things, before stepping back, and pulling the front door open. "Lock the door and make sure your security alarm is set."

"Right." Stiles replied, no idea what was going on. "Will do."

"Be careful."

And then, with a parting nod and a click of the door behind him, Derek was gone.

Stiles locked the door and set the alarm to the sound of Derek's boots clunking away down the front steps, and then he ran quickly through the house to double check that the back door and all of the first-floor windows were locked as well. Taking the stairs two at a time, he got to his room just in time to hear a loud, rumbling engine start up, and see headlights turning the corner and driving away from his window. Stiles stood by the open window for another few minutes, until he was sure the car was gone and wasn't coming back, before collapsing into his bed on his back, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes to rub until he saw sparks. He hadn't realized how exhausted he was until that very moment, and he barely mustered up the energy to worm out of his jeans and pull his overshirt off, throwing both onto the floor to land where they may. The clock on his bedside table read an ungodly hour of the night – make that early morning – and Stiles groaned.

"What the fuuuuuuuck…"

**o.O.o**

Stiles had thought for sure that he was going to be up for hours after Derek left, tossing and turning and questioning his life choices in general, but he must have been more exhausted than he had thought, because the next thing he knew he was waking up to the obnoxious ringing and vibrating of his phone from somewhere off to the side of his bed.

"Urrrghh…" Stiles grumbled, flopping over and reaching down to his jeans that he had hastily shucked off the night before and thrown on the floor. Pockets were an invention slightly too complex for Stiles' brain just yet, and it took him a few tries before he could dig into them and figure out which one contained his phone, but he got it before it stopped ringing.

"Whaaaat?" Stiles drawled, rolling over onto his back and throwing his arm over his face to block the sun out of his eyes from the window as he held his phone to his ear.

"Stiles!" came Scott's voice, slightly irritated, slightly relieved, and entirely too loud for first thing in the morning. Afternoon. Whatever time it was. "What the hell, man? I've been texting you ever since last night and calling you all morning! Where are you? Danny said he saw you leaving with some sketchy-looking older guy? Were you roofied?!"

"Oh my god." Stiles groaned. "It wasn't… I'm at home, Scott. And I wasn't _roofied_, oh my god, what is wrong with you?"

"Well then why did you leave with some sketchy guy? And tell me not to get a ride home with Allison's aunt?" Scott demanded.

_Kate!_

"Scott!" Stiles yelped, sitting up suddenly. "You didn't get a ride home with her, did you? She didn't ask you any weird questions, did she?"

"What?" Scott asked, sounding confused and frustrated. "No, I didn't, and she didn't. It was super awkward avoiding Allison's offers when we were all leaving, though, so thanks for that. What exactly was the problem with me getting a ride home with her, by the way?"

Stiles sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "It's… kind of a long, weird story."

"Yeah, well, I think Allison's irritated with me blowing her off to go home with freaking _Jackson and Lydia_ instead of her, so she said she had other things to do today than hang out, so I've got the time to hear it."

Ouch.

"Auuurgh… fine. " Stiles relented, figuring he ought to come clean. Scott deserved to know the truth, and if Kate Argent really posed a threat to the both of them, Scott should probably know about it. Plus Stiles felt a bit guilty about making things awkward with Allison for Scott, even if it was for a good reason. "I'll tell you all about it, but you've gotta come over here, because I absolutely refuse to change out of pajamas or set one foot out of the house all day."

**o.O.o**

Scott was not very happy with Stiles, and promptly stormed out of the house in a livid huff after Stiles spilled the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

He showed back up five minutes later to freak out some more, shouting and demanding answers, then immediately getting even more upset upon receiving them. It was a vicious cycle of explanations, and shouting, and '_why didn't you tell me sooner?!_', until it finally resolved itself into a furious video game tournament on Stiles' bedroom floor for the rest of the day and well into the night.

**o.O.o**

When Stiles heard low, rustling sounds drifting up through his window in the middle of the night, and peered out into the darkness to see a large, furry shape moving at the treeline just outside his yard, Stiles just closed the window and resolved to not tell Scott about it in the morning.

**o.O.o**

Stiles had never been particularly adept at letting sleeping dogs lie, or not tickling a sleeping dragon, or whatever other idiom was fitting for _just letting things fucking be_, so after Scott left sometime the next afternoon (making Stiles promise not to get caught up in anything more "crazy fucking insane, what the hell man" and assuring Stiles that it didn't seem like he would be in contact with Allison's aunt again anyways, since Allison's father had found out about them, and had gotten crazy protective and told Scott in no uncertain terms that he didn't want to see him around his daughter – which only meant that they would have to get sneaky and hide their love away "like Romeo and Juliet" and Stiles threw up in his mouth a little at the comparison) Stiles began researching like mad. The history of wolves in California, the history of wolf hunting (which was frankly a bit upsetting – who shot down animals with _assault rifles_ from _helicopters_?), and the history of Derek Hale and the Argent's family history in Beacon Hills. On the latter of his searching, there didn't seem to be any information, which Stiles found to be strange. Scott had let it slip that Allison's family was apparently "a pretty big name", although he hadn't given any specifics about context, which Stiles doubted Scott even had, and in any case, there should have been more about a house burning down in regards to Derek's local history. If there was anything Stiles had learned about the internet, it was that it usually had all the answers whether you wanted them or not, so to come up short seemed odd.

There was nothing else for it – Stiles was going to have to go old school.

To the public library!

Since it was summer, and since it was _the public library_, Stiles was able to park right up front when he arrived at the large, old building, and walk right in to the front desk (no line!) to ask about where to find the Beacon Hills public records. Unfortunately, he hadn't anticipated – he'd _known_ of course that this was where she held a summer job, but been too distracted to _anticipate_ – running straight into Lydia Martin running reception.

"Uh…" Stiles said, caught off guard by being so suddenly confronted with Lydia. Even the ever-lessening of his long-standing crush on her couldn't quite prepare him for sudden one-on-one interaction, because his she was not, but far be it from Stiles to ever stop appreciating beauty and brains in one fantastic package.

Lydia deigned to look up from filing her nails and perusing a huge tome filled with scientific diagrams of some sort that was laid out before her. "What are you doing here?"

"Just came by to bask in your ever-glorious presence." Stiles replied automatically, closing the space between where he had frozen and the front desk, folding his arms and leaning forward onto it. Lydia's expression didn't change, but he threw her a winning grin all the same.

"Anything else I can help you with while you're doing that?" She sighed, looking back down to flip a page in her book, and Stiles made a face at the graphic rendering of a pig dissection that had been printed on it. In the beforetimes, Stiles would have a very witty and not-at-all subtle suggestion on what she could help him with, but it was the dawn of a new era, and he was a man on a mission.

"Actually, you could point me to the local public records?" Stiles politely requested, tacking on a hasty "My lady?" when Lydia looked up and gave him a look that involved a lot of intense eye contact and furrowed, daintily manicured eyebrows.

"Third floor, back left corner, section R-6." She said. Stiles nodded, turning to follow her directions, but paused when she continued. "Funny, though."

"What's funny?" Stiles prompted, hoping this wasn't going to be some cheap _'your face'_ joke.

"Well," Lydia replied, casual-as-you-please, although Stiles knew she was anything but. "You're not the first person to ask about that section today. Which is odd, because _no one_ ever asks about it."

"That's… weird." Stiles replied, attempting non-committal mild curiosity while his brain churned at this information. Who else wanted access to the public records? What information were they looking for? _Why_ did they want it? It was simply too much of a coincidence to overlook, in an age where the internet was all you needed unless you wanted something _very specific_, and around Beacon Hills, not many people who weren't Stiles did, as far as he knew.

"Hmm." Lydia hummed in agreement, giving him one last knowing look before going back to her scientific tome.

Stiles took that as dismissal, and hastened to the stairwell, calling back a last-minute "thanks!", but paused one more time when Lydia called out, sweetly:

"Oh, and Stiles? Make sure he's not messing anything up, up there. He's been there quite a while, and I'd hate to have to destroy him for putting things back out of order, but I will."

Oh, fantastic. Whoever else was creeping around for non-Google-able local information _was still here_.

With that in mind, Stiles approached the section Lydia had given him instructions to with extreme care. What could he say? Ever since he'd found out that there was a psycho hunting endangered, non-indigenous wild animals out in the woods who wouldn't hesitate to take a shot at him too for knowing about it, Stiles has been erring on the side of caution. Perhaps the sneaking along with his back to bookshelves and ducking and rolling from aisle to aisle was a bit much, but hey. Sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do.

Finally coming up on the tucked-away section he was looking for, Stiles held his breath as he took a peek around the corner, only to find…

"Derek?"

Ripping a page in surprise, Derek turned to look at Stiles with a completely disproportionally irritated expression, as if he didn't get snuck up on often, and didn't appreciate this instance of it one bit.

"What are you doing here?" Derek asked him, his eyebrows forming an angry "V" on his forehead.

"Uh, it's a _public_ library, dude." Stiles retorted, surveying the mess scattered around Derek. "What are _you_ doing here? By the way, Lydia is going to kill you."

Because if Lydia had been plotting Derek's demise over the premise of him "messing things up", that was nothing compared to the books and newspapers that had been unceremoniously tossed across the nearby desk, on the ground, and – worst of all – pages torn out of books and shoved sloppily into a tattered backpack that was laying at Derek's feet. Lydia was going to slowly, meticulously, and excruciatingly rip him limb from limb with her freshly filed nails, and she was going to take great joy in it.

"Who?"

"The gorgeous, doesn't-miss-a-thing girl at the reception desk. Strawberry blonde hair, flawless fashion, and freshly sharpened nails with which to claw you apart. Ringing any bells?"

"I'd like to see her try." Derek said, haphazardly gathering up the contents of the table and shoving them in an approximation of where they belonged back on the shelves, looking worse for the wear, and zipping up his backpack.

"Yeah, actually, I would too." Stiles said, with feeling. That would be must-see entertainment. That, and he immediately knew that anything he might have been looking for was no longer contained on the shelves, and therefore made the executive decision to follow Derek when he strode purposefully away.

"Don't follow me." Derek grumped at him, not even bothering to stop or turn around.

Stiles huffed out a laugh. "Yeah right – and miss the show of Lydia asking if you found everything okay, and demanding to check your bag when she sees you empty-handed? Your bag which is full of _library carnage_, by the way, in case you forgot."

That got Derek to stop.

"She can't check my bag." He said, but he didn't sound so sure.

"Oh she can, and she _will_, buddy." Stiles promised him, grinning. "What Lydia wants, Lydia gets. And she's gonna get your balls on her very own personalized chopping block when she sees what you've got there."

"That's –" Derek said, making a face at the vivid description, before pushing up into Stiles' space intimidatingly. "You need to get up there and distract your girlfriend while I get out. This is none of her business."

While it was admittedly a little unnerving to have Derek quite so close, radiating body heat and nearly face-to-face with him, Stiles was undaunted. "Okay well first of all, she's so out of my league it's stupid, so she's not my girlfriend, and even if she was I'd still have zero control of what she does or doesn't do because, like I said, Lydia gets what Lydia wants. Secondly, it sort of _is_ her business, seeing as you shredded and confiscated property on her watch at her place of employment."

Derek didn't seem to have a rebuttal to that, but he still looked indignant and hadn't moved out of Stiles' space. Which was an issue that was becoming more and more distracting by the moment, because Stiles was quickly coming to realize that the more often he was in Derek's presence, the less scary he got, and the more interesting he became… and perhaps that interest wasn't entirely based from an intellectual standpoint. Quite possibly a little bit (or a lot, let's be honest) of that interest had to do with a strong, stubbled jawline, and amazing bright eyes, and endearing front teeth, and toned muscles under tight shirts and jeans, and the constant faint smell of musk and leather…

Okay, so maybe Stiles was developing a tiny crush. He was man enough to admit it, at least to himself.

Possibly Derek grew uncomfortable with Stiles' silent musings on his person, or else he simply decided that he had better things to be doing than having a wordless standoff that was going nowhere with some kid who kept following him around, because with a put-upon sigh he shifted, stepping around Stiles and heading relentlessly for the stairs.

"Wait!" Stiles called out, probably a little too loudly considering their setting, but it was imperative that he get Derek's attention before he just… left. Derek raised an eyebrow, as if to say '_what?_', and Stiles rushed to come up with a way to prolong their interaction. He was still desperately curious about whatever Derek was confiscating, and he wouldn't mind hanging around in Derek's stormy presence for a bit longer either, which probably said something about his tastes in others, or his opinion of himself, but it really didn't matter right now. "Uh, that wolf was at my house last night." He said, blurting out the first thing he could think of that they had in common. "Just… so you know."

Derek frowned. "I thought I told you to tell me if anything unusual happened."

"Well you also said that it wasn't the wolf I had to worry about!" Stiles said in a frustrated stage-whisper.

That seemed to give Derek pause. "And you're not worried about, literally, a wolf outside your door? Just because I told you so."

Stiles shrugged. "I guess not? It didn't eat me the other night. Maybe it followed my scent for some food scraps and a doggy bed and some belly rubs since it knows I'm a hero who tried to save it from certain psycho-bitch death."

Derek rolled his eyes, but if Stiles didn't know better he'd say that Derek was almost amused under all those scathing layers of frustration. "I doubt that. It's not a stray puppy, Stiles. It's a wild animal."

"I bet it wouldn't say no to some Beggin' Strips."

"I bet it would."

It was the most bizarre and civil conversation that they had ever had in their short acquaintance, and Stiles was starting to wonder if Derek was usually such a grump just because he wasn't used to talking to people, and because apparently someone was trying to hunt down animals on his property – his property that contained a burnt out shell of a house that was super depressing and dangerous – and who for some reason wanted to exact revenge on Derek and anyone else who knew about it. It didn't make Derek any less of a dick, but Stiles kind of got where his attitude was coming from, suddenly.

"I… there's a back way out." Stiles found himself saying. "To the library. The emergency exit's alarm has been broken for years."

Stiles waited for Derek to ask him how he was supposed to know that Stiles wasn't lying to get him in trouble, but instead Derek just stared him down for a minute, before nodding and stepping back.

"Thanks."

"Yeah." Stiles replied, shifting awkwardly on his feet. "I'll just… go talk to Lydia while you sneak out. The emergency exit's on the first floor just past the kid's section."

Derek just kind of looked at him for another moment, and Stiles resisted the urge to fidget under the scrutiny (and why was he helping Derek, again, when the guy had just stolen Stiles' curiosity-research right out from under him?) and although Derek looked like he was about to say something more, he just nodded again and walked away.

Frozen for a moment as he questioned what a weird story his life had become, Stiles suddenly realized that he needed to go distract Lydia. The emergency exit may have had a broken alarm, but that girl wouldn't need a wailing noise and flashing lights to notice someone sneaking around, since the kid's section was just about in plain eyesight of the front entrance, so Stiles dashed down the stairs and rushed the front desk.

"Find what you were looking for?" Lydia asked, glancing up and fixing him with a look.

"I, you know…" Stiles stuttered. "I didn't, actually. Because, and please don't shoot the messenger, buuuuut… the first guy you sent up there is totally still there wrecking up the place. Like, just thrashing it." Stiles prayed that Derek was fast enough to have already nearly gotten to the emergency exit, because lord help him if he was still in the building by the time Lydia discovered his absence from the third floor.

"_What_?" Lydia hissed out venomously, standing up. Stiles flailed back from the desk, putting his hands up defensively, just in case.

"Just the messenger!" He reminded her. "Who does not deserve to get shot!"

Without another word, Lydia abandoned her post to go on a murdering spree, taking the stairs two and three at a time in her vicious haste. Stiles waited until she was out of sight before tearing through the first floor aisles to the back, through the bright, colourful children's section, and out the emergency exit, which – as promised – shoved open with the click of the heavy metal latch and nothing more. Stiles burst out into the back parking lot, looking around frantically for Derek, grinning, so that they could share the moment of a heist well-heisted, and then maybe Stiles could convince Derek to let him know what kind of stuff that the public records contained on himself or Kate Argent that he didn't want anyone else to have access to as a reward for Stiles' cunning plan that _totally_ proved his worth as an awesome kickass ally…

But Derek was nowhere to be found.

The smile fell from Stiles' face, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. Okay, fine. So apparently Derek didn't trust him enough to stick around, even though Stiles had totally saved his ass. That was… whatever. It wasn't like he should have expected anything more. It was fine.

**o.O.o**

It totally wasn't fine.

Stiles had been stewing over it all afternoon, and the more he thought about it, the more uncool he decided it was, that Derek had just left him there in the dust after Stiles had come through with his brilliant escape plan, and especially since he hadn't even tried to leverage it by ransoming information about the stolen papers in Derek's backpack. By the time night rolled around, even Stiles' father was giving him a wide berth, after catching the brunt of Stiles' bad mood when he knocked on Stiles' door to ask what he wanted for dinner, and Stiles had snapped at him that he didn't care. He felt bad about it afterwards, and apologized to his dad over teriyaki chicken and green beans, but even sniping at his loved ones for no fault of their own wasn't enough to derail his bad mood. If anything, it only made things worse, because all he could think was '_this is all Derek's fault_!'

Struck by sudden inspiration, Stiles rummaged around on his bedside table until he found the scrap of paper he was looking for, that he wasn't even sure why he had kept (except yes he was. Derek was mysterious and attractive and he had given Stiles his number, which was totally awesome in a completely lame middle-school way, but whatever) and dutifully dialed the numbers into his phone contacts, saving it, and then immediately opening a text window for it.

_Stiles: my wolf buddy is at my house again u should probably come get him asap_

He pressed 'send' and flopped back on his bed to wait. If Derek didn't rise to the bait in five minutes, Stiles was going to text him again with increasingly urgent messages until Derek had no choice but to either respond or come investigate in person, because Stiles was absolutely set on being a pain in Derek's ass until he got a reaction, in retaliation for the earlier abandonment. Also, Stiles was willing to admit that he got a pigtail-pulling kind of glee out of needling Derek for attention.

As it turned out, he only had to wait a minute or so before he got a response.

**Derek Hale: no its not**

Well then. That was not ideal. Stiles had no idea why Derek was so sure, especially considering his _insistence_ on Stiles contacting him at the slightest whiff of the unusual, but there was no way that Stiles was going to let the matter drop.

_Stiles: u don't know that. its really out there right this second. in fact im going to go outside and get a closer look at it RIGHT NOW_

Ha! There was no way that Derek could ignore that – he _hated_ when Stiles treated this whole wolf situation less seriously than he deemed it was.

**Derek Hale: you do that**

Damnit, what did he have to do to ruffle the guy? Stiles frowned at his phone. This was so much easier in person.

_Stiles: fine. i will. i hope youre happy when i get eaten just because u didnt believe me even tho u told me to tell u if anything weird happened._

**Derek Hale: i hope you realize you are literally the boy who cried wolf right now. stop bothering me unless its actually something important.**

_Stiles: wow that was a lot of words for u im so proud._

**Derek Hale: stop**

Stiles felt a little stupid grinning to himself in his dark room, illuminated only by the glow of his phone's screen, but riling Derek up really was too fun. Best of all, Derek didn't seem to realize that as long as he kept responding, Stiles was going to keep doing the same. In fact, Stiles bet he could probably keep up a one-sided text conversation with Derek long after Derek himself dropped out, if need be. Derek seemed pretty adamant about not believing Stiles about the (admittedly fabricated) presence of the wolf, so it was on to new topics of interest. Stiles took a break to play some games on his phone to lull Derek into a false sense of security about believing Stiles had given up on heckling him before renewing their conversation.

_Stiles: so u doing any interesting reading tonite? any ill-gotten literature to peruse at ur leisure? i hear that stolen goods are where its at for book club these days._

**Derek Hale: i am going to block your number **

_Stiles: no u wont because then who am i going to call when there really is a wolf at my door? ha!_

_Stiles: or what if i need some tips on how to destroy public property_

_Stiles: p.s. i think its only fair that i get to see what u took from the library since i helped._

_Stiles: derek?_

_Stiles: did u actually block my #?_

_Stiles: dude not cool what if the wolf really was coming to eat me_

_Stiles: fine whatever but if i get eaten scott is going to tell my dad its ur fault. btw he thought u roofied me that nite at the club_

**Derek Hale: what did you tell scott**

Ha! Stiles pumped a fist in the air in triumph. He really had been starting to think that Derek had actually blocked him. Stiles was in the middle of formulating a reply about how he thought Scott deserved to know if his secret girlfriend's aunt possibly wanted to murder them for discovering her secret illegal hunting hobby when another text came through from Derek.

**Derek Hale: n/m dont send tht kind f info ovr txt**

Stiles frowned, erasing the reply he had been working on. Derek must have sent the follow-up text in haste, because it was the first time Stiles had seen him use shortcuts in spelling, as if he was being sloppy or needed to get a message across as quickly as possible. Derek really took this whole wolf thing seriously, and although Stiles joked and let his curiosity overrun his sense of caution on occasion, he did still appreciate the illicit danger involved, even if Derek didn't seem to think he did.

_Stiles: scott wont really tell my dad it was u if i get eaten. and i told him u didn't roofie me. he knows whats up._

It took a while for Derek's reply to come through this time, and when it did it was only one word.

**Derek Hale: good**

Stiles sighed. It looked like the fun was over for the night if Derek had descended back into monosyllabic responses. All the same, he couldn't resist sending out one last message.

_Stiles: ur no fun_

Pulling off his day-wear and changing into a loose shirt and clean boxers, Stiles tossed his phone down on the bed and went to brush his teeth, wash his face, and take a piss before bed. He wasn't feeling irritated anymore, since his mission to take his frustration out on Derek through texting had ended up being pretty fun. Stiles still felt a bit stupid over his weird pseudo-crush on the guy who was definitely a creeper in a big way, but hey, as long as no one else found out about it, no harm no foul. What happened in his own head – and maybe, at some future point in time if he was feeling adventurous, in his own bed at his own hand – didn't hurt or embarrass anybody. Except for himself, but that was par for the course.

When Stiles returned to his room he climbed in bed, since it was getting late, and rolled over to hook his phone into the charger. When the screen lit up and buzzed to let him know he'd plugged it in, he saw that it also had one unread message waiting on the screen.

**Derek Hale: go to sleep stiles**

Stiles grinned, feeling accomplished and victorious over the message for some reason, and didn't even feel the need to get the last word in for once. Instead, he pulled the comforter up and shuffled around under it until he was comfortable, and did just as Derek had instructed.

**o.O.o**


	3. hello again

HELLO! I am so, so sorry for the long delay – again – in getting this posted! But! This is it! The final chapter! Thank you so SO much to everyone who has stuck by this fic, and commented and favourited it or even just read it and I don't even know about it. THANK YOU ALL I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! No idea when I'll crank another fic out, but you can always come bother me over at my tumblr, which is: **QuirkPuppy**. Until next time!

**.o.O.o.**

**.o.**

The next few days passed by in a remarkably boring fashion, considering the recent influx of chaos that had taken over Stiles' life as of late. He didn't even get to spend much time killing things in video games, since Scott had been devoting most of his waking life to figuring out ways to sneak around with Allison, and Stiles quickly got bored of inciting violence without competition. To shake up the monotony of Wikipedia-binges, bad daytime television and cheetoes, and, if he's being totally honest, a _lot_ of masturbating which may or may not feature Derek Hale, Stiles decided that he was going to head down to the Station and bother his dad and stick his nose where it doesn't belong in the Sheriff's office, which was always full of something interesting in drawers that clearly need better locks, come on dad, when are you going to learn.

Or at least that was the plan, until suddenly Scott's name was flashing up on his phone.

"Well, well, well…" Stiles said as he picked up. "The prodigal best friend has returned."

"You have to go on a date with me." Came the rushed, desperate reply.

Stiles wrinkled his nose in confusion, taking the phone away from his ear to look at the screen, and yep, that was definitely Scott's name. "Scott, I mean… I love you and all, buddy, but – "

"Not like _that_." Scott huffed, in a tone that indicated that he believed _Stiles _to be the insufferably crazy person right now.

"Oh, so now I'm being shoved into the friend-zone?" Stiles mock-petulantly shot back. "Not cool, baby."

"_Stiles_, oh my god, just listen –"

"The friend-zone is total bullshit perpetuated by immature, possessive douchebags, by the way." Stiles continued, just to be a contrary, just because he could.

"Oh, like you're one to talk." Scott snapped.

"Excuse you." Stiles curtly retorted. "If you're referring to Lydia, I'll have you know that I never once treated her poorly based on her continued choice to refute my charming advances. She's already dating an _actual_ douchebag, she doesn't need another one getting all up in her business based on her choice to pick the first one over the second one."

The line was silent for a moment, before Scott's flustered reply came. "What? I don't even know… Look, will you go on a date with me or not?"

"That depends." Stiles said. "Are you planning on putting out, or not?"

"_STILES_."

"Well maybe if I knew what the hell you were actually talking about, I wouldn't be trying to plan a romantic night for us!" Stiles told him, tilting his head to support the phone with his shoulder as he pulled on his shoes. No use holding off on putting clothes on and getting on with his own plans of taking the Sheriff's station by storm for his own amusement if Scott wasn't going to hurry up and get to a point.

"Urgh, look," Scott said, no doubt making that scrunchy putting-thoughts-into-words face. "Allison and I were going to go on a date tomorrow, but her aunt Kate caught her texting me about it, and on top of her being a crazy bitch, apparently she could also potentially tell Allison's parents about it, so Allison had to lie and say she was going out with Lydia, for some sort of girl date."

"Hot." Stiles commented.

"Shut up." Scott told him. "Anyway, so then, I don't know, apparently Lydia is, like, actually going to come along to help cover for Allison, which is great, I guess, but now there's no way I can be caught dead going with her, or the whole thing will fall apart. So you have to come get me and come along so it's not suspicious and no one finds out."

Stiles rolled his eyes, shrugging into a jacket. "Okay, one: I hope you know that this plan is falling apart at the non-existent seams. If her parents saw you and her together with me and Lydia it would just look like a _double_ date, not just _woops what a coincidence that we all bumped into each other_. And, two: I don't _have_ to come get you and go on a weirdo faux-double date with you."

Scott didn't reply right away, but when he did, it was in his puppy-voice. "But you're _going_ to, right?"

Stiles sighed. "Of course I am, stupid."

**o.O.o**

Of course, Scott had failed to mention that this dubiously planned double-(but-not-really)-date was going to be taking place way out in the middle of freaking nowhere, all the way out at the preserve.

"You're paying for my gas." Stiles told Scott, approximately fifteen minutes into the drive out, at least another five or ten to go.

Scott fidgeted around in his seat, impatient. "It had to be out of the way. You said it yourself, it would be totally suspicious if her parents caught us around town or something. Besides, I thought you liked… hikes and nature and shit."

Stiles gave him a sidelong glance. "I don't like them _this_ much."

Grinning sheepishly, Scott scooted down in the passenger seat a bit. "But you like _me_ this much?"

"Some days." Stiles said, looking back at the road. "Although I'm really not sure why."

The preserve was a large expanse of woods, fields, and hills with the occasional creek thrown in, mostly left in its natural state aside from a few paths running through it and an occasional service bridge put in over wider strips of the creek. It was a point of pride for Beacon Hills, to have such a natural, relatively untamed area right outside of town, in this day and age. Stiles did think it was pretty nice, in an absent kind of way, and had in fact had some pretty magical Disney moments encountering deer and quail and, once, a coyote, as a kid with his parents, but he couldn't say it was an especially engaging destination, especially since he was going to be visiting it again on a super awkward not-double-date.

Could have been worse, though. Apparently Lydia had apparently tried to drag Jackson along to make it an _actual_ double date, and Stiles couldn't even begin to imagine how grueling that would have been, to be dragged through nature as a fifth wheel with two simpering couples. Or possibly forced to carpool with Jackson.

Urgh.

As Stiles pulled off onto the dirt shoulder that served as a "parking lot" to the main trailhead of the preserve, there were only two or three other cars parked along it, one of which Stiles recognized as Allison's dad's SUV that he must have let the girls borrow for the day. Scott, of course, spotted it as well, and practically threw himself at the door as soon as the Jeep was in a relatively immobile state, even though the ignition was still running. By the time Stiles got the Jeep appropriately parked and shut off, and wandered over to the girls and Scott, his best friend had already managed to completely wrap himself around Allison, who was, for her part, grinning happily, dimples flashing at Stiles as he ambled over.

"Hey Stiles!" she greeted. "Thanks for coming along today, since, well… you know how it is."

"No problem." Stiles replied, even though the drive out kind of had been. But all the same, it wasn't like he'd had anything else planned for the day, and although he had technically _met_ Allison a few times in passing as Scott traded over between Stiles and her, he had never really gotten much interaction with his best friend's star-crossed lover, and maybe it'd be nice to finally get to see what all the fuss was about. She was pretty, and seemed nice, but so far he wasn't getting it, so maybe prolonged exposure would reveal what drove Scott bonkers when it came to her.

"Stiles."

That tone was absolutely no good, and as Stiles turned to face Lydia, he could tell that there were figurative dark clouds gathering on his horizon. A sudden flashback to high-tailing it out of a completely thrashed library reminded Stiles of the last time he had seen Lydia, and what terms it had been left off on.

"Yeah, hi, hello. You look especially gorgeous today, Miss Martin." Stiles uneasily attempted, but it was obvious that Lydia was having none of it, by the squaring of her shoulders and the aggressive angle of her hips.

"So you want to tell me why the hell my library looked like the aftermath of a tornado with no culprit in sight last time I saw your face?" She spit, looking a mixture of furious and begrudgingly curious. Lydia had always loved a good dramatic mystery. Allison looked between them with trepidation, and Scott – in an attempt to save his date – pulled her along towards the woods. Stiles floundered between answering Lydia and running like a coward for a moment before rushing to catch up with Scott and Allison.

Nearly an hour later, after a lot of Scott and Allison attempting to keep ahead of Stiles (who was determinedly hounding them in an attempt to escape Lydia's keen interrogation, and how she was even keeping up in those skinny jeans and calf-high leather boots, Stiles would never know. Possibly she was driven by the force of her own wrath and determination.) and Lydia, things had settled down, and the four of them were having a good hike along the creek. Stiles was amusing himself by making gagging sounds every time Scott and Allison held hands or did this weird thing where they just sort of put their faces really close together and smiled at each other, which Lydia scoffed at, but Stiles knew that deep down she felt the same, if the amount of time she had been spending on her phone was any indication.

"That's poison oak you just stepped in, good job." She told Stiles, as he overbalanced in his attempt to not slip off a rock into the freezing creek water, and landed in low, ruddy-coloured shrubbery.

"Fan_tastic_." Stiles quipped, sidestepping into _another_ patch of it, before jumping out into the safety of dry, fallen tree leaves on dirt. At least he'd worn jeans – hopefully they would have kept it from touching his skin, and he could just wash them as soon as he got home.

"Oh my gosh!" Allison yelled from a few yards ahead, and Stiles looked up to see her jumping back, Scott grabbing her protectively, as a large amount of crashing exploded from the nearby bushes. Lydia screamed as something came rushing out in a large blur, and Stiles made a vague attempt to move in front of her, but mostly he just ended up shoving her to the ground and then launching himself out of the way as whatever it was came running right at them, followed by several more.

More crashing could be heard as they fled further away into the woods, and no one said anything for a minute until Allison burst out, smiling, "Were those _deer_?", sounding entertained at their own reactions. Scott burst out laughing, and Lydia rolled her eyes, pushing herself to her feet. Stiles laughed in both amusement and relief, but then there was another crashing creature bursting out of the bushes.

The girls _screamed_, and Scott shoved Allison behind himself, shouting "Stiles!" Stiles, for his part, was frozen in shock, not sure if he could believe his own eyes.

It was the wolf.

It must have been the same wolf, because how many huge black wolves could there possibly be running around in Beacon Hills, but it looked completely different somehow. Maybe it was seeing it in broad daylight, the sun making its thick fur shine with dark brown undertones and bright silver highlights, or maybe it was seeing it without clumps of bloody matting dripping ominously to the dirt, but Stiles was floored at the magnificent creature that was standing before them. The massive creature that was… staggering, stumbling, falling over in front of them.

"What the _fuck_." Lydia shouted, hysteria tightly wound in her voice. "Is a wolf doing here?"

"Stiles, no!" Scott cried out, at the same time as Allison squealed, "What are you _doing_?"

Because Stiles didn't even think about it before he stepped forward, dropping to his knees in front of the heaving beast. At first it was hard to tell what was wrong, but as Stiles shuffled closer he could see something sticking out of its shoulder – a bright red tuft among the wolf's mane.

"I think someone shot a tranquilizer at it." Stiles said, looking up at the horrified faces of his friends. Scott was looking like his brain might explode, both from the shock of the wolf's re-appearance, and from being the only other person who knew about the connection between the wolf and Kate-crazy-fucker-Argent, aunt to Allison who was _standing with there_, and wow it was going to be a bloodbath (hopefully not literally) of awkwardness if Kate was the next beast to burst out of the foliage.

"Yeah, I wonder why." Lydia snapped, shifting from foot to foot, as if she couldn't decide if she wanted closer, or further away.

"We should go." Allison said, pulling at Scott's arm in the direction of the path back to the cars. "Before it wakes up or gets angry…_er_. We can call Animal Control on the way back."

Stiles impulsively shifted closer to the wolf. "No way." He told the group at large. "We're not just leaving it here."

"Stiles…" Scott said, sounding reluctant to say it, but firm all the same. "We're not exactly equipped to deal with this. It's… dangerous and weird, and we need to get out of here and get ahold of someone who knows what do to."

_Derek_, Stiles realized. Derek had told Stiles to call him if anything weird happened, and this definitely qualified.

"I'm gonna make a call." He said, standing and pulling his phone out, pacing in a nervous-energy circle as he pulled up Derek's contact information and hit 'call'.

The phone rang… and rang… and rang, and rang and rang. It rang for much longer than Stiles thought phones usually did, before finally switching to voicemail. A generic, automated voice informed him that he had _reached the voice mailbox of_ – and here Derek's voice cut in awkwardly and gruffly with his own name – _"__**Derek Hale**__", please leave a message after the tone, or press 1 for more options_.

"Who the hell are you even calling?" Lydia demanded, which, to be fair, was a valid question. Not everyone had wolf-emergency contacts on speed dial.

The tone on Derek's voicemail beeped infuriatingly, and Stiles knew it wasn't an answering machine that Derek could hear him on and pick up when he heard Stiles' voice leaving the message, but he left one anyway.

"No, I don't want to _press one for more options_, unless one of those options is getting your ass out here right this fucking second. What the hell, Derek, you can't just tell me to call you if I need to, and then just _not answer_. I'm out at the preserve, and kind of in the middle of trying to deal with a very large, furry problem, so you need to call me back absolutely A.S.A.P, hopefully before I even finish sending you a very irate follow-up text message, which I will be doing the second I hang up. Call me back, asswipe!"

Hanging up, Stiles immediately set to formulating a text message to Derek, as promised, when Scott cleared his throat.

"What?" Stiles said, not looking up from his fingers flying across the keyboard.

"We _really_ shouldn't stick around much longer." Scott said, and winced at the glare Stiles sent at him, but continued. "If, uh… if _someone else _shows up, it probably wouldn't be a good idea for us to be hanging around."

Stiles sighed, sent off _SOS 911 WOLF EMERGENCY CALL ME BACK LOSER WAT THE HELL_, and took in the scene. Scott… was probably right. If Kate Argent showed up and found Scott and Stiles caught up in her wolf hunt again, not to mention joined by two other bystanders, one of which was her own niece, things would be getting very tricky very fast. She _probably_ couldn't kidnap and hold-for-ransom all four of them for being witnesses, but Derek had heavily impressed upon Stiles what a psycho bitch she was, and it probably wouldn't be best to take chances.

"Okay." Stiles agreed, and everyone seemed to collectively sigh in relief, but that was only because Stiles hadn't finished his statement yet. "But we're not leaving it here."

Another outburst predictably greeted this announcement, and Scott resorted to using expansive gestures since he couldn't be heard over the screeching of the girls, but Stiles had made his decision.

"Look, someone shot it, and someone's going to come looking for it. We can't just let them come find it and… make it into a decorative pelt or something." Stiles insisted, throat feeling tight at the very thought.

"Maybe it got shot because it's _a wild wolf in the middle of Beacon Hills_ and needs to be _taken away_." Lydia snapped, ignoring Allison's "Who would even do that?"

"Look." Stiles said, kneeling down and scooting in carefully towards the wolf. "You guys do whatever, but I'm not gonna just leave it here."

There was another onslaught of shouting in response to this, but Stiles decided that he didn't care, and time was of the essence. Who knew how long ago the wolf had been tranquilized, and how far away it had been able to run before coming across them? Kate could be coming along any minute now. Stiles wasn't entirely sure how he was going to carry the wolf on his own, but maybe someone would volunteer to help after witnessing Stiles' struggle. If not, Stiles had piggy-back carried Scott's drunk ass around for a whole night during their end-of-school celebration a month or two ago… surely he could figure out how to make this work on his own, somehow.

The wolf was laying pretty still, chest slowly heaving breaths that came out as soft _whuff_s from its muzzle to stir the dry dirt, but it still seemed at least a little bit conscious from the way its eyes would slowly blink and try to focus on noise and movement, and its limbs would occasionally twitch in what seemed like a useless attempt at proper movement. Stiles crept as closer slowly, and thankfully everyone else had decided to watch him tempt fate in silence, because the last thing he wanted right now was for sudden noise to startle the wolf into a burst of adrenaline-inspired activity involving sharp teeth and large claws.

"Heeeeey wolfy." Stiles gently coaxed, reaching out a shaking hand towards its ruff, wondering how on earth he had come to be this recklessly stupid. If Derek was ignoring him because he thought Stiles was crying wolf again, and Stiles got his arm bitten off, the first thing he was doing was getting a metal claw installed in its place so he could slash Derek's pretty face with it. "It's your buddy Stiles, remember me? We're gonna be friends, okay? I'm gonna touch you and you're going to be super thankful and not maul me to death, deal?"

A low, rumbling growl came from the beast's chest as it made a great effort to focus on Stiles, but there wasn't much that it could do like this, apparently more drugged than it was letting on, if Stiles was already this close. Emboldened, and accompanied by a "_Stiles, oh my god no_" from the peanut gallery, Stiles finally reached out just that bit further and made contact with the wolf's thickly furred neck, gently applying experimental pressure that he hoped was vaguely reassuring.

"Shh… there's a good wolfy. We're gonna help, okay? But I've got to pick you up, so please for the love of god understand that I am helping and don't tear my throat out, okay?" Stiles cooed, shuffling closer and running his fingers through the wolf's fur, from the neck down over the shoulders. Bracing himself, he pulled the tranquilizer dart out with one swift yank, but aside from an abrupt peak in the ominous growling and a quick twitch, nothing happened. Stiles' heart was thudding so loudly against his chest he was sure the wolf and anyone else within the tri-county could hear it as he awkwardly shifted the wolf so that he could get a grip under its arms to attempt to pull it up. The low rumbling never let up, and Stiles' life flashed before his eyes as he leaned in closer to reach under its chest and slowly worked the wolf's prone form up off the dirt. The growling grew even deeper for a moment, and the wolf's sluggish limbs half-heartedly attempted movement, but Stiles shushed it again, and, after taking a few deep, snuffling breaths that Stiles could actually feel over the back of his neck, _oh my god_, the wolf settled down and let Stiles awkwardly heave it up over his shoulders.

"Shit." Scott hissed in shock and awe as Stiles slowly stood up, the wolf half-draped over him like some sort of living medieval cloak, and then rushed in when Stiles slipped, grabbing the wolf's back end so that Stiles could get it more firmly around the front.

"Thanks." Stiles wheezed out, half from the exertion, half from the terrifying thrill of _oh my god he was carrying a wolf. Half carrying. Whatever._

"This is the most batshit insane thing we've ever done." Scott told him, as if Stiles had been unaware.

"Thanks, buddy." Stiles told him. "I hadn't noticed."

Somehow, with a great deal of hefting and awkward transporting – including an especially memorable occasion of trying to get across the creek without slipping and falling and getting soaking wet _and_ mauled – they made it back to the cars, Allison and Lydia having scouted ahead to make sure that no one else was around to witness four people shoving a wolf into the back of a Jeep. Getting its massive prone form into the back was no easy feat, but between Stiles and Scott they finally managed it.

"Now what?" Lydia asked, giving Stiles a '_you-are-even-weirder-and-stupider-than-I-ever-coul d-have-imagined_' look.

"Oh, I was going to check him into the pound and put up 'lost dog' fliers." Stiles replied.

"What about the vet?" Allison asked.

Scott nodded enthusiastically. "That could work. Deaton can keep it in a kennel until we can call Animal Control or whatever. He won't be happy about it, but I don't think he'll rat us out for bringing it back either."

"Alright." Stiles agreed, absently stroking over the wolf's flank as it slowly rose and fell. The wolf had long since stopped growling, simply making sounds of protest on the long walk back to the car whenever Stiles and Scott weren't able to be gentle enough stumbling over the rocks and uneven pathways. "That could work." Also he was going to call Derek again, because seriously, what the hell.

"Hey, that looks like my aunt's car." Allison suddenly said, looking across the street to where a sleek black SUV was parked almost completely off the road, into the trees. "Was it here the whole time?"

S_hit shit shit_, how long had Kate's car been there? Had they not noticed it when they had initially parked? Or had she come by after Stiles and Scott and the girls had arrived, themselves? Shit, Stiles' Jeep wasn't exactly unrecognizable, and Kate would know her own bother's car as well, and know exactly who else was at the preserve at the same time as her and the wolf. Again.

"Whelp, time to go!" Stiles loudly responded, over Scott's "It's probably just a coincidence!" Allison didn't look convinced, but when Stiles carefully tucked the wolf's tail in and shut the back of the Jeep, it wasn't like she had much of a reason to stick around and find out.

"So, let's all agree to never speak of this to anyone. Ever. I'm talking about, like, to the grave." Stiles said, walking around to the driver's side and pulling the door open.

"Yeah, right." Lydia said, slipping into the passenger door of Allison's dad's car as soon as Allison unlocked it. "As if I want everyone thinking I'm crazy, and Jackson never letting me out of his sight again? No thanks."

"Scott!" Stiles snapped, and Scott and Allison broke apart quickly from their lingering goodbye kiss. "Not the time!"

The drive back seemed both much longer and much shorter than the drive out. The wolf was starting to make more snuffling noises and regaining a bit more movement, making every second a terrifying stretch of _are we going to make it in time_, but Stiles was so busy keeping the exact speed limit – because they _so_ could not afford to get pulled over right now – and dictating text messages for Scott to send to Derek using Stiles' phone, that they were actually pulling up to the vet's office before he knew it.

The vet's office that was very firmly _closed_.

"Oh my god, it's Sunday." Scott moaned.

"Why the hell is a vet's office closed on Sundays?" Stiles demanded. "Do they expect animals to just not need medical assistance on the weekends?"

"Vets are always closed on Sundays!" Scott hysterically informed him. "You have to go to Emergency Clinics on Sundays!"

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" Stiles snapped. "Don't you have like a, like a key or something? Don't you _work here_?"

"I... okay, yeah, I have a key." Scott said, rooting around in the bag at his feet.

"Fine." Stiles decided. "Then we'll get it in, put in a kennel, and then you're calling Deaton, and then Deaton is calling Animal Control."

"Why can't _we_ just call animal control!"

"Because then we're connected, and nothing happens around here so it's going to be a big deal, and they'll fuckin' put our names in the paper for everyone to see. We don't need two strikes from your girlfriend's psycho aunt!"

"Urgh, fine!" Scott relented. "I'll just… I'll go unlock the back door, and come back to help you get it taken in. Then we'll call Deaton and let him handle it."

It was a good plan – the _only_ good plan that had been concocted over the last twenty four hours, if you asked Stiles – until everything went to pieces. Scott got the door unlocked and was back to help team-lift the wolf into the clinic in record time, but as soon as Stiles unlocked the back and opened it up a hundred-plus pounds of furry beast was leaping out, knocking Stiles and Scott to the ground.

"What the hell!" Scott cried out, eyes wide as he flailed back to his feet. "I thought it was knocked out!"

"So did I!" Stiles shouted back as he pushed himself up. The wolf was standing very still, staring them both down calculatingly from where it hand landed in the parking lot. "I think… I took the dart out, and it took so long to get here that whatever was in its system already just… wore off. Oh god. Good wolfy, pretty wolfy, please don't be mad."

The wolf huffed, once, staring Stiles down with eyes the green-grey colour of the forest itself, before turning tail and running off.

"No!" Stiles shouted, throwing his arms up and spinning in a frustrated circle. "Come on, we brought you all this way!"

"At least it seemed okay." Scott said reassuringly, shuffling closer and looking in the direction the wolf had run off in.

"For now." Stiles darkly gritted out, completely gutted that he had come so close to getting the wolf to safety, only for the stupid thing to bolt.

_Dumb animal_, Stiles thought to himself as he slammed the Jeep's door after getting in, going to drop Scott back off at home, and then head back to his own. But he knew he didn't mean it. When that wolf had looked at him, Stiles couldn't help but feel like it had _known_, had looked right into Stiles' very soul somehow, and known exactly who he was and what was going on.

But it had still run away.

**o.O.o**

By the time Stiles got home it was getting dark, because Scott had wanted to properly freak out and rant and panic at Stiles for a very long time about '_we could have died'_ and '_Allison is going to be so freaked out and never want to go on a date again'_ and '_that was definitely Kate Argent's car oh my god what if she saw us what if she tells Allison what if what if what if…_' and Stiles had taken the time to talk him down. Stiles pulled his Jeep into the drive, noting that his dad's cruiser wasn't there, and then did a double take and nearly floored his Jeep into the wall in surprise because _Derek was right there at his front door._

"Where the hell have you been?" Stiles demanded, slamming out of the car and storming up to the front door, where Derek was looking distinctly unruffled.

"Waiting here for you to get home." Derek said, hands in the pockets of his ridiculously stupidly smoking hot leather jacket.

Stiles scoffed. "Are you kidding me? What century is this? I called you and sent you approximately five hundred million texts all afternoon, you could have called back instead of showing up a'courting at my door!"

Derek shifted, frowning. "I didn't have my phone with me."

"You didn't –!" Stiles began, loudly, his voice cracking mid-way through. He angrily rummaged his keys out and jammed them in the door, pulling it open and hauling him inside, not wanting the whole street to hear this conversation. Because it was going to be a loud one, Stiles was going to make sure of that. He slammed the door, and rounded back on Derek. "You didn't have your phone with you, after _specifically_ giving me your number and telling me to call in an emergency? All while there is an active emergency situation running around in the woods at any given time, hunted by a secondary, even _greater pressing_ emergency? Is that _really_ the time to not have your phone on you?"

Derek shifted on his feet again, not saying anything. Stiles couldn't even see his face to figure out what his response might be, which made him realize that they were basically both just standing around in the dark in his foyer.

"Urgh, you're impossible." Stiles declared, throwing his arms up and turning on his heel to the kitchen. He slapped the light switch on the wall as he entered, and Derek trailed after him. There was a note on the fridge about leftovers from his dad, and Stiles pulled out the plate that had been made up, shoved it in the microwave, and then rounded back on Derek, who was hovering somewhat awkwardly just past the kitchen threshold.

"So what the hell are you here for, then?" Stiles snapped.

Derek scowled at him. "Checking up on you."

"Well I'm still in one piece, no thanks to you." Stiles said, holding onto his anger, and trying very hard not to feel like of warm and pleased that Derek had come to check up on him to make sure he was okay.

"I told you I didn't have my phone on me." Derek said. "I came over right after… as soon as I got back to my phone and saw the messages." And Derek did sound kind of awkward about it, which Stiles thought might have been a show of guilt, which appeased him somewhat. And Derek did look sort of… peaky. His hair was a bit more ruffed up than usual, and his clothing looked rumpled, and he seemed just sort of exhausted overall.

"You kind of look like shit, dude." Stiles told him.

"Thanks." Derek replied, rolling his eyes.

The timer dinged on his food a minute later, and Stiles retrieved it from the microwave and took it up to his room, still followed by Derek. Stiles' heart beat a little faster as Derek followed him up the stairs, because Derek was going to be in his room, and Stiles hoped he hadn't left out anything embarrassing, like dirty underwear, or something horribly embarrassing still pulled up on his computer screen. Stiles could have asked Derek why he was still there, as he pushed open the door to his room and kicked his lacrosse uniform out of the middle of his floor, sitting down in his desk chair. But he didn't. Because he kind of enjoyed Derek hovering around, checking up on him, and presumably feeling guilty over not picking up the phone when Stiles needed him. Derek looked around Stiles' room (which thankfully did not currently display dirty underthings or inappropriate internet tabs pulled up on the computer screen) before sitting down awkwardly on the edge of Stiles' bed. No one else besides Scott or his dad had ever sat on his bed before, and Stiles' stomach felt squirmy things about Derek being on it. The jury was still out on good-squirmy or bad-squirmy, but if Stiles was being honest with himself, the outcome was leaning heavily towards the former.

"So how do you know so much about this?" Stiles asked to break the silent tension.

"About what." Derek gruffly returned.

"About…" Stiles tried to clarify, twirling his hand at the wrist in a circular gesture to the room at large as he set his plate down on his desk. "You know, the wolf and the hunter and stuff."

Oooooh, Stiles hadn't known it was possible for scowls to get quite so deep and angry. But Derek's face looked like it was about to frown right off and start committing violence all on its own with no help from the rest of him, and Stiles froze, fork of food stuffed in his mouth.

"Uh," Stiles continued after swallowing, "As expressive and intimidating as that face is, it kind of only makes me want to know the answer even more, dude. I just spent the afternoon carting around a semi-unconscious apex predator, I think I deserve to know why."

Derek sighed, scowl turning into something closer resembling a resigned frown. He didn't reply right away, but Stiles had all night and was willing to either wait him out or actively pester the answer out of him, so he buckled in and wondered which it was going to take. Derek seemed to sense this, and made the decision to avoid the pestering by providing an answer. "I… know Kate."

"Yeah, I got that impression a while ago from the jumping me in the club and bodily dragging me out of her sight like an aggressive ninja of the night." Stiles told him.

"I mean I _know_ her." Derek grit out, scowling down at his shoes. "I, a long time ago, I used to…"

Stiles eyes widened in surprise as he connected the dots that Derek was struggling to verbalize. "No _way_ dude! I mean, she's kind of hot in an intimidating dungeon-cougar way, but like… she's totally crazytown bananapants. In, like, a way that totally outnumbers the aggressive attractiveness or whatever she might possibly have going on in her favor."

"She wasn't like that at first." Derek grumbled, still looking anywhere but at Stiles. "Or, she didn't let it show."

"Oh." Stiles said, not sure how else he was supposed to respond. He'd never had a crazy ex, or known anyone else who had; what were you supposed to say? Sorry? That sucks? Hope the sex was good at least?

Except, ew, that gave Stiles icky creepy-crawly feelings. He didn't want to think of psycho Kate putting her crazy hands on Derek. Not just because he got stupid jealous feelings over it (or, not _only_ because of that, at least) but because it squicked him out to think of people using others, and Derek sure was acting like someone who had been conned, because obviously it bothered him to think of her, and obviously it had something to do with him not knowing about her being a psycho hunter.

"Sorry." Stiles said, awkwardly, as he took another bite of his meal, because he really had no idea what else to say. "Did she, like, trick you into helping her shoot wolves?"

Derek flexed his knuckles, clenching and unclenching his fists, grimacing as he answered. "She burned my entire family alive."

The plate of leftovers crashed to the ground, the plate breaking and the food splattering everywhere, but the sound barely registered over the ringing in Stiles' own ears at the admission. _The burnt wreck of a house in the woods, Derek having been away from town until recently, the intensity behind his insistence that there was a very real and tangible danger even though all Stiles had seen so far was a gun pointed at an animal_… Everything slotted into place, and Stiles was shaken with a surge of empathy and fear.

"That's…" he said, gripping the arm of his computer chair tightly.

"She's dangerous." Derek said, as if that wasn't suddenly more clear than ever, and as if he wanted to cut off whatever comment Stiles was going to have on the matter.

"Yeah." Stiles agreed, a bit breathless. He sort of wanted to go sit next to Derek and give him a hug or something, but wasn't sure if that would be welcomed. Derek didn't seem like the type to suffer sympathy well. "Okay, so… so what are we supposed to do? My dad's the sheriff, we could – but why isn't she already in prison?"

"Lack of _evidence_." Derek spat.

"So… what do we –"

"_We_ don't do anything." Derek told him, finally snapping his gaze back up and meeting Stiles directly in the eye. "The only reason you're even involved is because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. I'm working on it, and all _you_ have to do is stay out of the way."

Shocked and angry, Stiles stood up and glared at Derek. "Uh, excuse me? Last I checked, I was the one, both times, who was there in time to keep that wolf from being a pelt while you showed up fashionably late to the party. You said that she'd kidnap me or god knows what else if she saw me again, so I'm pretty sure it's a little late for me to not be a part of this. I'm helping."

"You're not –"

"Pretty sure I am." Stiles cut in. "What the fuck, Derek, you can't just think I'm going to keep my head down and hope it all goes away. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not some delicate flower. I'm in too deep to back out now. That's what she said."

The last comment probably didn't do much to aid his declaration that he was prepared to take this seriously and be an adult contributor to the solution, but whatever. It wasn't like Derek could _make_ him stop being involved. That would be fighting a war on two fronts, and Stiles had the feeling Derek knew that, by the way he sighed resentfully and shook his head.

"Why do you even care?" Derek asked. "You don't have to do anything more than keep out of the way and be alert. Why would you want to go out of your way for some… some stupid animal."

"It's not a stupid animal." Stiles immediately shot back. "It's… it's a really cool wolf who never hurt anyone and doesn't deserve to just _die_."

"You don't know that." Derek told him.

"Yeah, well." Stiles shot back, pointing accusingly at Derek. "I still think I'm right. That wolf is awesome. It's just… it's wild, but it's not dangerous. It looked right at me, the last time I saw it, like it was looking into my freaking _soul_, and didn't even try to scratch me. It's not a dumb animal, and it's not right that she's going to kill it. And it's not right what she did to you, and your family. That's like, on a totally other level, but this is still messed up, and there's still time to do something about it."

Derek was staring at him curiously, arms folded loosely over his lap, as if he had never really seen Stiles before. Stiles wasn't sure if he had crossed some sort of line, mentioning what Kate had done to Derek and his family so offhandedly, but what Derek asked was: "You like the wolf?"

"Well, yeah." Stiles said uncomfortably, shrugging, and not sure why that was what Derek was choosing to focus on. He felt like some of his steam had left him, and continuing to stand while Derek just sat there and looked up at him seemed a bit silly, in his own room, so he flopped down on the bed next to Derek, his stomach flipping a little at the nearness and the location. "It's not like wolves are bloodthirsty monsters like fairytales always seem to make them out to be. They're really smart, and they're social animals, just like people, and they're, I don't know." Stiles had never really thought much about wolves until this whole ordeal. "That one in particular seems really… something. Not like I've ever run into any other _canis lupus_ to compare, exactly, but it just seems like it doesn't want to hurt anyone. It just wants to be left alone, or go back to its pack, probably."

Derek took in a deep breath, looking down again. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

"And, hey," Stiles continued, elbowing Derek companionably. "I'd kind of prefer you not chewed up and spit out by the psycho-ex either."

"You don't even know me." Derek said, looking uncomfortable.

"Uh, I guess." Stiles conceded. "But I, you know, I like you or whatever –" _Oh yeah, real cool Stilinski_ "– so, you know. I'd sort of prefer it if you stuck around."

Oh my god, could he sound any more like a middle schooler with a crush?

Derek sighed, standing. "You don't know that."

"I know what I want, thank you very much." Stiles snapped back, standing as well. "I'm not a kid." Derek met his determined expression for a moment before looking him up and down quickly and then returning his gaze again.

"I know that."

Stiles was taken aback, and he could feel his traitorous cheeks heat as he flushed. Did Derek just check him out? But before he could ascertain that one way or the other, Derek was already walking away, leaving through Stiles' open bedroom door.

"Where are you going?" Stiles asked, quickly following after him, being careful not to trip down the stairs.

"I'm leaving." Derek said, crossing more efficiently that he should through the dark first floor towards the door, considering that it was only his second time in the house and it was just about impossible to see anything. Stiles himself clipped his hip, hard, on a corner. "It's late, and it's been a long day. You should get some rest."

"I'm fine." Stiles told him as he rubbed his hip, not sure how to convey that he didn't want Derek to leave without sounding weird. Derek paused as he opened the front door, looking back at Stiles once more time. Stiles' heart beat heavily in his chest, and he stepped right up into Derek's space. Derek eyed him, assessing, before shaking his head and stepping out the door.

"Goodnight, Stiles."

"Night." Stiles exhaled, pushing out the door onto the porch to watch Derek go down the stairs, and turn away down the sidewalk. Derek looked back one more time when he got to the end of the block before turning the corner, and Stiles felt stupid for still standing there watching him. He waved awkwardly, and saw Derek shake his head in some mixture of amusement and frustration before taking the corner and disappearing from sight. Stiles closed the door quietly and locked up before trudging back to his room and flopping down onto his bed. He had a lot to think about, with the murderer of both animals, and, apparently, people on the loose, and what they were going to do about it to, and what it had meant when Derek looked at him like he did, and why Stiles got such a swooping rush from it. It wasn't just that Derek was attractive. There was something about him, something deeper, underneath all the standoffish bitterness that Stiles was drawn to. It took Stiles hours to get to sleep, and even when he did he still tossed and turned all night.

The next morning, although he hadn't heard anything during the night, Stiles found a set of paw tracks in the dirt in the yard below his window.

**o.O.o**

The next day at lacrosse practice, Scott was nearly out of his mind with anxiety over the previous day's events. _'You don't even know the half of it'_, Stiles thought to himself – and he wasn't _going_ to tell Scott, either. Not just because Scott's anxiety would reach apoplectic levels if he knew the full truth of what they were up against, but because it didn't seem right to tell someone else what Derek had confided in him. It had occurred to Stiles last night that it had probably been that very huge, morbid story that Derek had been stealing from the library's public records archives. It wasn't that there wouldn't be other records of the event – hell, Stiles could probably just ask his dad about it over dinner if he wanted the details – surely something like that would be impossible to completely cover up in a close-knit town like this – but Derek had wanted to get rid of the _public_ records. If he didn't want anyone else to know about his messed up, tragic past that didn't already know about it, then Stiles wasn't going to blab. Not even to his best friend.

"I just don't think we should be messing around with this wolf stuff or any of Derek's business anymore." Scott was hissing to Stiles in what he probably thought was a discreet manner as they changed into their uniforms at their lockers.

"You're free to bail, dude." Stiles told him. "Just as long as you don't get caught messing around with Allison by her crazy aunt until we figure out how to get that situation taken care of."

"I'm not – what do you mean, _we_? What do you mean _taken care of_, oh my god!" Scott said, getting tangled in his jersey. He wiggled it into place, continuing, "I _just_ said that I don't think –"

"I meant me and _Derek_, not _you_." Stiles clarified. Was he maybe a bit bitter about the amount of time that Scott was spending sneaking around with Allison, leaving Stiles on his own to apparently fall into the wrong (right? Stiles wasn't sure) crowd? Probably, but far be it from Stiles to not snark back when it was even remotely deserved.

"Duuuude." Scott whined. "That's what I'm talking about! I don't think me _or_ you should be hanging around with him. He's not… he's… you know."

"He's fine." Stiles snapped, defensive.

"Come on, Stiles." Scott wheedled. "Don't you think it's a little shady that he's tied up in all this? Do you really think it's a good idea to get involved?"

Stiles opened his mouth to defend Derek – because what did Scott know? – and tell him that they'd _been_ involved ever since they decided it would be a good idea to trespass at the remains of someone's tragic, burned down family home and gotten caught, but Finstock chose that moment to pop in and yell at everyone to hurry up, eager to get them onto the field and run them ragged.

Thankfully, it seemed that a grueling practice was just what Scott needed to wear him down so he could stop freaking out, because a grueling hour of sprinting, grass-stains, and – there was really no other way to say it – using their sticks to heave heavy balls through the air later, all he had to say on the matter (through panting and wheezing as he pulled his sweaty jersey off back at the lockers again) was "Fine, you do whatever. But I don't want to hear any more about it, and I'm going to be really upset if you die."

"I'm not going to die, Scott." Stiles retorted, rolling his eyes. "Don't be so dramatic."

"You're either going to get eaten by a wolf or shot by a hunter." Scott insisted. "That's your life now. I hope you're happy. I hope it's worth it for your stupid crush on Derek."

Stiles froze, arm halfway shoved into his locker to pull out his change of clothes. "I don't…" he started, but then realized he wasn't sure how to finish.

Scott rolled his eyes. "Oh please. All you talk about anymore is 'Derek this' and 'Derek that' and 'Derek said…' or whatever."

"Yeah, well," Stiles began without a proper defense in mind, unwrapping his bundle of clothing, and pulling it back on piece by piece. When he took his phone out of his pocket to check the time there was a missed call from Derek, and a follow up text reading: "let me know when you are home" which seemed vaguely ominous, but also sent a fissure of excitement through Stiles at the prospect of spending more time with Derek one-on-one.

"What?" Scott prompted, leaning in to look at Stiles' phone.

"Nothing, it's just Der –" Stiles started, before cutting himself off.

Scott threw his hands up. "You see! It's always Derek, Derek, Derek!"

"Well I could say the same about you and Allison!" Stiles threw back, and Scott got that glossy look in his eyes for a second before shaking his head.

"Fine." Scott relented. "Obviously this is a thing that you're going to do, I just hope that you know what you're getting into. Also if he hurts you I'll kill him."

"Thanks, buddy." Stiles said, clapping Scott on the back and hoisting his backpack over his shoulder. "Seeya later."

Stiles didn't _run_ from the locker room to his jeep in his eagerness. He just took very long, purposeful strides, thank you very much. He texted "on my way" back to Derek as he crossed the field to the parking lot, nearly getting hit by a car as a reward for his distraction. By the time Stiles got home and parked his jeep, Derek was already sitting quietly on his front porch, and Stiles tripped over himself in his haste to exit his vehicle.

"Hey, creeper." Stiles greeted, a bounce in his step as he approached. "What were you planning on telling my dad if he decided to enter or exit the house and saw you loitering?"

Derek rolled his eyes and stood, tucking his hands into his pockets. "The patrol car isn't in the driveway."

"Hmm." Stiles acknowledged as he strode to the door, pulling out his keys. He smiled when Derek automatically followed him in the house, closing the door behind them as if he was already a regular guest. "You know," Stiles continued in a teasing lilt as they headed upstairs. "Scott thinks you're sketchy, doesn't want me hanging around you. And here you are making sure I'm conveniently home alone when you show up. Should I be worried?"

Derek didn't answer right away, and when Stiles smiled back over his shoulder as he pushed into his room and dropped his backpack, Derek was frowning. Stiles' smile dropped.

"Hey, come on dude, I was kidding."

"I wouldn't hurt you." Derek told him, shifting awkwardly in the doorway.

Stiles frowned. "I know that. Get in here, what's up?"

"Nothing's up." Derek told him in a surly manner, crossing the room to sit on the edge of Stiles' bed. Stiles' stomach flipped again, his heart skipping a few too many beats to be healthy, and Derek raised an eyebrow at him before Stiles got his act together and sat down next to him. Probably a little too close to be inconspicuous, but whatever. Stiles was living life on the edge these days.

"Then why did you blow up my phone while I was at practice?" Stiles asked him, shuffling back so that he could lean his sore muscles against the wall.

"I didn't _blow up _your–"

"Oh my _gooood_, stop stalling!" Stiles groaned. "What's up grumpy-face? Just spit it out."

Derek glared at him, then sighed, resituating himself more comfortably on the bed. "Who else have you told about any of this?"

Stiles didn't even have to think before answering. "No one, no one at all. I mean, Scott knows, because he was there. But even then, all he knows is about the wolf stuff. Not about any of the, you know… _you_ stuff."

Nodding, Derek took this in, as though that was the answer he suspected anyway. "Okay."

Scooting closer, Stiles sat right beside Derek, bumping their shoulder. "Dude. What's up?"

"Kate's been setting traps around the house all week." Derek told him, and Stiles knew he meant his family's house, or what was left of it at least. "And if something happens… I don't want you involved, so no one else can know that you know anything."

"What's going to happen?" Stiles asked, leaning forward and trying to get Derek to look at him, but Derek resolutely looked down at his lap with a scowl. "Derek? What's going to happen?"

"I don't know." Derek admitted. "But if… if there was ever an investigation… no one else can know that you know me. It wouldn't look good."

"An investigation of _what_?" Stiles asked, heart picking up. Derek definitely wasn't telling him something.

"Anything suspicious."

Stiles turned sideways, one leg hanging completely off the bed, the other tucked under himself so that he could face Derek directly. "Dude. What the hell is going to go down, and why won't you tell me about it?"

"Stiles…"

"_Derek_."

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Derek stood, going to the door. Stiles froze in shock even though his brain was screaming to not let Derek just walk away when something big was obviously brewing on the horizon, but Derek just shut the door and came back to sit down. Stiles couldn't help but notice that Derek sat down exactly where he had been before, even though he could have used getting up and coming back as an excuse to move away from where Stiles had positioned them so closely that his knee was pushed up against Derek's thigh.

"I'm going to try to set her up." Derek said. "She's been out there nearly every night, checking and re-setting the traps. If I can…" And here Derek paused, gathering himself. Stiles nearly whined aloud in anticipation and concern. "She doesn't know that I know about the traps; she hasn't seen me near the house since the first night –"

"Wait, which first night?" Stiles cut in. "You weren't there when Scott and I found the wolf –"

"– so I think I can trick her into getting caught in one of them, herself." Derek continued, as if he hadn't heard Stiles. "I'd call the police. I'd be able to tell them that she had been trespassing, setting illegal traps, carrying a firearm on my property, even that… that we used to… and it would be very suspicious, and they'd have to take her in, and maybe even revisit the old case, if I implied that she was a suspect, and they found her there again."

"That's… Derek, oh my _god_, that's…" It was dangerous, and risky, and would bring up all sorts of attention to something that Derek had obviously tried very hard to put behind him. It was not a good idea. "Why don't we –"

"No, Stiles." Derek firmly insisted. "It's the only way. She needs to get caught in the act, because no one would ever take my word for it, and _you cannot be there_. Not under any circumstances."

"But –"

"Did you miss the part about me calling the police?" Derek snapped, and Stiles shut up. Derek hadn't been anywhere near hostile towards him in some time, but an edge of his old danger was creeping into his voice, the way he held himself. "Stiles, your dad is the sheriff. He can't see you anywhere near this, and _Kate_ can't see you anywhere near this again, or she'll connect the dots and tell him you were involved. She'll be able to turn it around on you, _and_ me, and… Stiles, you just can't. I won't let you."

It made sense, damn it. "But, okay, there's got to be _some_ way –"

"No." Derek said, and he reached out to grab Stiles' arm to emphasize his point. "I'm only letting you know because you've been helping so far, and you have a right to know since you're involved, and we need to keep our stories straight, but you have to let me do this on my own. There's no other way."

Making a frustrated sound, Stiles scooted even closer, his heart pounding. "You're going to get hurt."

Derek shrugged. "Maybe."

"Uuuuuurgh, Derek, oh my god." Stiles groaned. "This is crazy. No way."

"I'm not asking for permission, I'm telling you as a courtesy." Derek growled.

Stiles yanked his arm back out of Derek's grip, but didn't move away, so that Derek could receive his glare at close-range. "I only want to help. You're just as stubborn as that damn wolf. Maybe after all of this is over the two of you can be best friends who live in the woods and never let anyone else come close or try to do you any good, and see where that gets you."

Apparently this was the wrong thing to say. Derek looked like someone had struck him across the face; a mix of shock and confusion and anger and betrayal all mixed up together. Stiles cringed and drew back.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean –"

"It's fine." Derek said, voice cold. "You're not wrong."

"Damn it, Derek, I didn't mean it like that." Stiles told him. "You _have_ been letting me help, I just… I'm frustrated that I can't do more, and this is the best idea we've got to go on."

"It doesn't matter." Derek said, standing. "Now you know what you need to know."

This time, when Derek went to the door, Stiles jumped up after him, because he was pretty sure that Derek wasn't going to come back. He trailed Derek silently out of his room and down the stairs, and they both paused when Derek opened the front door.

"I mean it, Stiles." Derek told him, fixing him with a hard look. "Stay out of this one."

"Whatever."

"I'm not trying to push you away."

"Fine."

Derek shifted from one foot to the other, looking like he wanted to say more, but instead he just sighed and turned to leave. Stiles almost let him go, but darted forward at the last minute, wrapping his arms around Derek's chest and pressing his face into the back of Derek's jacket. Derek stiffened, but didn't move away.

"Be careful, stupid." Stiles mumbled into the leather he was smushing his face into.

He felt Derek draw in a sharp intake of breath, then nod, and Stiles reluctantly unwound his arms from around him. Derek didn't say anything more, didn't even look back, but Stiles still watched him until he turned the corner and was out of sight. Then he went back inside, locked the door behind him, crawled back up to his room and opened the window so that he could hear the roar of Derek's Camaro as it sped away while he laid down on his bed.

**o.O.o**

Stiles must have fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing he knew he was waking up, and it was dark. He wasn't sure what had woken him at first – maybe the discomfort of his day-clothes that he had been sleeping in, or the slight chill coming in from the open window – until he heard a sound. It was very faint, and a weird sort of tone that Stiles couldn't place.

Until suddenly he did.

Scrambling for his phone and his shoes that he had kicked off, Stiles thundered down the stairs three at a time, thankful that his dad was working the evening shift and wouldn't be home until much later, because there was absolutely no stealth at all involved as he blundered his way to the door, barely managing to lock up behind himself in his rush to get out, into his Jeep, and driving.

He'd never heard a wolf howl before, not in person, but he knew it when he heard it, and he knew that it meant trouble.

In his newfound hobby on Googling wolves, Stiles had learned a few things about why and when wolves howled. They didn't go around doing it for no reason, or just because they happened to see the moon in the sky like in stories and cartoons. They howled to signal to others, when they were hunting or in trouble. The only wolf around here for miles had no one else to call out to for a coordinated hunt, but Stiles was sure it wouldn't be able to stop itself from instinctually howling for help if it was in trouble.

Stiles drove at double the limit with the windows rolled down as he barreled towards the Hale property. He hadn't known (because Derek hadn't specifically said), but had suspected that Derek was going to enact his plan that very night. It was the perfect night for it – calm and brisk with a full moon overhead to see by – but there were definitely no wolves meant to be involved. Adding a wild animal into an already dangerous mess of a plan did not bode well for anyone and was just asking for trouble, and it would seem as though trouble had been delivered. There was no way a lone wolf that knew it was being hunted would give away its position unless things went very south very quickly, and Stiles' heart pounded for what that meant for Derek's involvement at the scene as well.

When Stiles pulled off the road next to the barrier keeping him from accessing the private turn-off for the Hale property, he nearly strangled himself in his seatbelt in his haste to get out of the car. The click of the hinge as the door popped open seemed excruciatingly loud in the still silence, and Stiles pocketed his keys without closing the door, because the last thing he needed was to make an earth-shattering noise and completely blow his cover, alerting psycho Kate to his presence. The jog up to the house seemed _endless_, especially when another wolf howl burst through the woods at a frankly alarming volume, and he definitely managed to step on every single perfectly crunchy stick littering the drive that cracked with a loud _snap_ as he stumbled blindly through the dark. He worried vaguely about the wolf traps that Derek had mentioned, but just hoped that they had been set off the road in the bushes somewhere, because even if he _had_ planned on slowing down, there was still no way he'd be able to see clearly enough to avoid them, even with the full moon's light filtering through the trees.

After way too long, the turn to the house finally came into view, and Stiles slowed down as he approached, praying that he'd obliterated all of the crunchy sticks on the way up, and that there were no more to give him up with here at the house, where the trees held back for the clearing. He couldn't see anything, and it wasn't like any lights were on in the house, but he could definitely hear scrabbling from inside the shell of the house, and a voice, and then suddenly a burst of blue light sizzled through the cracks, and was gone just as fast. Lungs tight, heart beating staccato-quick in his chest, Stiles crept closer.

The front door had been left open, or maybe it had always been open, because no one was inside, so what was there to keep out? Stiles pressed closer, keeping low and next to the walls, darting in quickly and cornering himself in the entry room to keep his back safe, and to give his eyes a moment to adjust in the darkness. He could hear the sounds and voices more clearly from inside, and it sounded like they were coming from right at the top of the stairs – and yep, that was definitely Kate.

"Oh, come on." Her sickening voice purred. "Don't be like that, puppy. Let me see your pretty face. Don't you want to come out and play, Derek?"

'_Derek!_' Stiles' brain shouted, and he gasped aloud. Another burst of blue light zapped through the air, and this close, Stiles could hear an accompanying crackling noise to go with it. A nearly inhuman noise of pain followed, and Stiles' stomach dropped. _Derek_!

Hardly daring to breath, Stiles crept to the foot of the stairs, hoping and praying as he never had before that they wouldn't creak. Perhaps to make up for all of the noise he had made getting there, the house answered his prayers and the old, worn, decaying stairs didn't make a single groan of protest under his weight. He could hear Kate's voice goading Derek on – "Now don't be so shy, Derek, it's unbecoming. Show me how handsome you are." – and by the time he got to the top of the stairs Stiles was nearly crawling on all fours in his attempt to stay low and out of sight.

It belatedly occurred to him that he definitely should have brought some sort of weapon, or even just grabbed a large branch on his way up the drive, but it was a bit late for that now. Listing himself ever so slightly from his crouch on the stairs, Stiles dared to peek up to get an idea of what he was about to burst into – because he was definitely going to do _something_ – but was completely thrown by what he saw. Kate was there, brandishing something about the size of a nightstick, but sizzling and glowing dangerously, and Stiles realized that what he had been hearing and seeing flashes of earlier was the crack of electricity and the sparks resulting from hitting flesh. Her gun was slung over her shoulder, so the use of the electricity was just a _taunt_, a _torture_, and Derek… Derek wasn't there.

The wolf's large body was half crumpled to the floor, dragged up against the wall like Stiles had done when he first entered the house, to brace against and protect itself from the back with, but it wasn't doing much good. Kate was standing over it, feet firmly planted and ready to strike out at any forward movement from the creature, which was panting heavily and foaming slightly at the mouth as it shook. It met Stiles' eyes with its own, which were positively _glowing_, and gave a low, rumbling growl. Stiles quickly looked around, but there was definitely no sign of Derek. But just as assuredly, he had definitely heard Kate say his name, and confusion swept through Stiles' fear.

"Giving up so quickly, Derek?" Kate said, sounding amused and mock-disappointed. "My, how the mighty have fallen. Your family would be ashamed. I'm a little ashamed myself."

The wolf bared its glistening teeth threateningly, but otherwise made no attempt to defend itself or escape. Its eyes kept darting from Stiles' to Kate, and rumbling low and thunderously from deep in its throat. It tried to get up, but immediately collapsed again under the effort.

"Pathetic." Kate whispered, withdrawing the electric whipping stick, and reaching back for her rifle. She was quick, the movement obviously well practiced, and had it leveled right between the wolf's eyes in one smooth motion, as she clicked off the safety.

"_NO!_" Stiles shouted, rushing forward.

Kate turned quickly, rifle still raised, and quickly retargeted on him, but Stiles' dad had taught him a thing or two about what to do if someone ever pointed a gun at him, and he quickly ducked to the left as his momentum kept him barreling forward, which enabled him to reach out and grab the barrel of the rifle and shove it away, just as she fired. The shot resounded so loudly that Stiles' ears rang with it, but the bullet went straight past him, missing by a mile. Kate let out a curse, shifting and yanking away, and she was pulling the rifle back around, and that was going to be it, she was going to put a bullet in his head and his dad was going to be _so sad_, and Scott had _told him_ that this was going to happen –

A snarling sound accompanied Kate suddenly tripping, nearly falling, and Stiles saw the wolf clamping its maw around her leg, yanking her off balance. She was scrambling for her gun, and kicking out at the wolf, which was barely managing to stand, and Stiles just… _pushed._

They had somehow managed to make it right up against the banister, which suddenly gave way, and one second Kate was there, the next there was nothing. Stiles overbalanced and nearly toppled off the edge as well, but then he was being jerked back, and there was hot breath fanning out over the bare skin of his lower back, because _oh my god_, the wolf had snapped out and gotten ahold of his jacket and shirt, and was yanking him back roughly in some horrible game of tug-of-war, because he was still mostly falling off the edge, and he wasn't sure if he would rather fall to his death or be mauled by a wild enraged beast. He made the mistake of looking back in a panic, and saw the huge hulking beast holding onto him, and lurched forward in terror, because this was it, he was going to die one way or the other – until suddenly he wasn't.

Between one blink and the next everything shifted and warped, and Stiles thought he was going to throw up from disorientation, but then strong arms were wrapping around his waist and pulling him back, which was a good thing because he definitely lost all ability to hold himself up as his legs gave out and he collapsed into the hold and was dragged back to solid ground.

"_Derek_?" Stiles gasped as he hit the floor, half on top of the body of his rescuer. He immediately flailed, pushing away and trying to get up, trying to make sense of what had just happened. "Derek, oh my god, what the hell, get off, _what the fuck just happened_?"

Derek let Stiles escape his grasp, then threw himself back against the wall, heaving for breath. He was covered in dirt and bruises and gashes that slowly clotted before Stiles' very eyes, and Stiles instinctively wanted to lunge for him and check to make sure he was okay, but after what he had just seen…

"What… Derek!" Stiles gasped. "What the fuck was that? Did you just… am I going crazy? You just… _the wolf_. Derek, come on… I know this is like, fucknuts crazy, but _are you the wolf_?"

Closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the wall, Derek sighed, and nodded.

"What the _fuck_?" Stiles reiterated, eyes wide. "Did that _really_ just happen? Wait, oh my god, where's Kate – did she –"

"She's dead." Derek panted.

Stiles' eyes went even wider, and he drew back, tentatively looked towards the edge of the floor where the banister used to be, pushing himself up slightly to see if he could see over it. "How do you know?"

"You probably shouldn't look." Derek told him, and Stiles sagged back to the floor. "There's… I smell a lot of blood."

"You _smell_ –" Stiles gasped in disbelief.

"Stiles. You saw me. You know what I am."

Stiles was pretty sure he knew, but there was no way. Just no way. There was definitely a word for what Derek was, but it couldn't possibly be real, even though he had just seen it with his own eyes.

"I don't… did I hit my head?" Stiles asked.

"You're fine."

"I think _fine_ isn't exactly the word I would use." Stiles said. "Not for either of us."

Derek winced.

"Sorry." Stiles said, scooting a little closer, and realizing that he was maybe being a bit insensitive towards someone who had just saved his life. "Are you okay?"

"I'll heal." Derek said, which really wasn't a super reassuring answer. But as Stiles looked closely, Derek _was_ healing, the scrapes and bruises fading slowly right before his eyes.

"No way." Stiles breathed.

"Stiles…" Derek said bracingly, as though preparing for Stiles to freak out on him.

"Can you do it again?" Stiles blurted without thinking, and Derek raised an eyebrow at him. "You know… the thing. With the… wolf thing."

Derek looked unsure, but Stiles scooted even closer, watching him intently, and with a heavy, resigned sigh, Derek was gone, and the wolf was back.

"No fucking way." Stiles said, automatically reaching out to touch. The wolves ears tipped back unsurely, but it… he… _Derek_, allowed Stiles to gently pet down the short silky hair on the top of his head, all the way back into the dense ruff of his mane. There was definitely a word for what Derek was.

_Werewolf_, Stiles brain whispered to him.

As soon as Stiles pulled his hand back, Derek shifted back, eyeing Stiles warily.

"So, all this time…" Stiles started.

"Yeah."

"And that's why she wanted to… to hunt… you? Your family?"

"Yes."

"That's… super messed up."

Derek frowned suspiciously. "Aren't you… afraid? Disgusted?"

Stiles shrugged, swallowing nervously. "I mean… it's kind of weird. But also kind of super awesome. I'll let you know my final verdict when the shock wears off."

Derek let out a disbelieving laugh, closing his eyes and resting his head against the wall again. Stiles knew he probably shouldn't, but he couldn't help himself, and he reached out and touched again, this time coming in contact with the sharp line of Derek's nose, the distinct angle of his cheekbone, the soft arch of an eyebrow. Derek opened his eyes, watching Stiles curiously, and patiently allowing the prodding.

"How are you even real?" Stiles whispered reverently, his heart picking up in excitement. Suddenly so many things clicked into place. "Do it again."

"Stiles…"

"Please, just one more time!"

Brow furrowing warily, Derek asked, "You don't mind the wolf?"

"Are you kidding me?" Stiles scoffed. "I kind of love it."

Derek's face shifted into cautious, hopeful disbelief, before it shifted once more into fur and a damp nose and a mouthful of sharp, dangerous teeth.

"Awesome…" Stiles breathed, leaning forward and stroking along the smooth cheeks and softly pulling at the velvety ears. "You're amazing."

Before he knew what was happening, the wolf was gone again, and Derek was there, pulling Stiles forward into his lap, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in Stiles' neck, breathing him in.

"Woah!" Stiles said, but let himself be held, shifting into a more comfortable hold. Derek was strong all around him, and Stiles' cheeks warmed at being so engulfed by him. Derek clung to him for a minute or so, before quietly sighing two words into Stiles' neck.

"Thank you."

Stiles hummed warmly, nuzzling his face into Derek's hair, which was soft, even as dirty as it was. "You're welcome. Hey, what do you say we get out of here?"

**o.O.o**

By the time Stiles and Derek got back to Stiles' house, the patrol car still wasn't back, and Stiles wondered how long he had actually been gone. It had felt like a week had passed since he had last been in his room with Derek, but here they were again, safe and sound.

"Hey, should we call someone about… um… at your house…?" Stiles warily asked, as he changed into a clean shirt and took his jeans off, throwing Derek a clean pair of sweats to borrow.

"In the morning." Derek replied, collapsing onto Stiles' mattress.

"Hey!" Stiles said, grinning. "No dogs on the bed!"

"No dog jokes." Derek grumbled, rubbing his face into Stiles' comforter.

"Oh, there are going to be plenty of dog jokes." Stiles promised, crawling into the bed alongside him and pulling the comforter over the both of them.

Derek huffed out a halfhearted attempt at an annoyed sound, before allowing Stiles to scoot right up to him, tucking exhaustedly and comfortably along his front. Stiles' nerves sang in delight at the heavy arm that draped over him, pulling him closer.

"Hey, Derek." He whispered.

"What?" Derek grunted.

"I'm glad you're the wolf."

If Stiles didn't know any better he'd swear the noise he got into response to that was embarrassed and pleased, although he was sure Derek was trying for annoyed. But the cuddling kind of ruined it. Apparently now that Stiles knew Derek's big furry secret, Derek allowed a lot more affection. There was a dog joke in there somewhere.

"Hey, Derek." Stiles whispered again.

"_What_?" Derek growled.

"I kind of like you." Stiles confessed. "In case that wasn't obvious."

Derek sighed the sigh of the heavily burdened. "Stiles."

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and go to sleep."

"Yeah, okay."

But he was pretty sure Derek liked him too.

**o.O.o**

The next morning, Stiles woke up alone, and lay in bed staring at the ceiling, wondering if it had all been a very vivid dream. But the bed smelled different, a little wild, and when he went outside, he checked beneath his window and found a fresh set of paw prints.

He went back inside, grabbed a bowl of cereal, and headed back up to his room to check his phone. There was a text message waiting for him that he didn't know how he had missed before.

**Derek Hale: today is going to be crazy. let me know if/when you still want to be a part of this mess.**

Stiles grinned.

_Awesome_.

**.o.O.o.**

_the end!_


End file.
